Friends keep asking me how it’s going, having three boys now. I have to tell them honestly I don’t know—Kevin is taking paternity leave and is doing all he can to make it so I can live in this fantasy world where I lay around in pajamas all day, surrounded by pillows and blankets and candles and holding a soft, sweet, newborn baby boy.
Today, however, Kevin went to work for a few hours in the afternoon. My afternoon “alone” started off grandly enough. Rocco and Leo both went down for naps and Vincenzo and I made a bunch of St. Patrick’s Day crafts and I started mentally composing an article about myself to send to Mom of the Year Magazine. Things were going so well, in fact, I decided it would be a good idea to hook myself up to the pump for a few minutes.
It was not, in fact, a good idea to hook myself up to the pump for a few minutes.
Just a few womp-womp-womps into it, Leo woke up and started fussing. Then I heard scream-crying from the kitchen and went running out to find Vincenzo with a Slim Jim, a pair of scissors, and blood everywhere from his hands to his underwear. The Slim Jim itself looked as if it were bleeding. As I was taking care of Vincenzo with a band-aid and a lollipop, Rocco woke up in a foul mood, screaming an angry-at-the-world scream and sporting in a thick layer of mucous from his nose to his chin. I offered him a lollipop and got screamed at. Leo switched from fussing to crying. I put Rocco’s lollipop back in the cupboard and got screamed at even louder. Vincenzo dumped an entire carton of yogurt in the kitchen and started crying anew.
Fortunately the lollipops kicked in soon after that and Leo just wanted to be held and the afternoon found us piled on top of each other on the couch reading books together.
It wasn’t perfect, I admit.
But this is.
And I think it’s fair to say today was a great day.
(Michael gets credit for editing the second photo—thanks, BIL!)