My middle child is the same age now as my first"born" was when he entered my life, and I have spent the last week staring at him in stupification, thinking that I don't EVER remember him being this maddening. In fact, I'm pretty sure neither one of our subsequent children would be here right now if he had been.
I love him, I do. Most days I'm so proud of him I could burst, but good grief, it's a miracle we all made it through this week intact.
Well, except for the fact that my teenager is sporting a sparkly new cast due to a broken wrist, so I guess that's relative.
But we DID have a phenomenal experience getting little C's hair cut, and started swim lessons, AND I'm chugging along on my book. I'm only a little bit neurotic about it.
It's been an action packed week, folks, with an amazing play date...
My little kleptomaniac
An exhausting but surprisingly enjoyable trip to the zoo...
This is so us
And this ending to a trip for a haircut.
So long, mullet!
Turns out I STILL can't get out of one of those without crying. At least these were happy tears.