The truth and comedy of being a wife and mother
So I just discovered I gave birth to a boy.
I realize that just now discovering the baby I had roughly a year and a week ago, is a boy is a bit inconvenient, but I have my reasons.
When you have your first baby you are just excited to finally hold your child. Yes, you make the distinction of if the little one is a boy or a girl by the choice of his or her name.
But honestly, it’s a baby.
Point in case; think back to when you talked about your baby after he or she was first born. I am pretty sure it went kind of like this.
“You won’t believe what my baby did today!”
“My baby is cutting teeth!”
“The little one kept me up all night.”
I could go on forever. But you get the gist. Your baby is just that “a baby.” You never consider significance of your child being a boy or a girl…
Until their personalities start peaking through their all their pudgy babiness.
And you discover that not only are you living with two males, but two that have the same sense of humor despite the twenty-four year age gap.
Point in case.
Two weeks ago, we were packing for a trip to Milwaukee. The hubby was folding socks (something that never happens often in our house) and Darren is in his playpen to keep him from getting into everything. I am in standard packing panic mode, speed-racing around the house trying to fill two suitcases with more stuff that we need for a four day-trip.
Peals of baby laughter and man giggles are coming from the living room.
“Baby! Baby! Come here,” hubby gasps between giggles. “Watch!”
I walk into the room as he launches a pair of rolled socks in his son’s direction. Darren is sitting in the furthest corner of the playpen gurgling with laughter.
Cute, it does make me smile; but why they find is so hilarious is really beyond me.
This is when if felt the first inkling of being out numbered.
Then this past Saturday rolled around. I had a pretty relaxing morning with Darren. He was well behaved and cheerful.
Then daddy came home.
And my cheerful well-behaved boy woke up from his nap and realized that his partner in crime had magically appeared while he was asleep.
By supper time I was ready to pull my hair out. Two and a half hours of constant yelling, grunting, protesting being told no, and etc.
And the little man wasn’t done. He was loudly stating his disgruntlement at how long his mama was taking to fix his plate.
The hubby finally noticing my frayed ends and gives me a hug, while still hugging me he’s creates an impromptu game of peek-a-boo with Darren, swinging our bodies back and forth so that only one of us can look at Darren at a time.
Darren finds this terribly amusing.
I find in it extremely dizzying.
My frustration is about to boil over.
“Baby, just chill out,” the hubby says to try to get me to relax.
“But you two are such…….BOYS!” I sputter indignantly.
Man giggles is all I get in response.
Boys, I can’t live with them, so I think it’s time we try to have a baby.
Hopefully it will be a girl or I am in a world of trouble.