This past weekend was a blur. After 3 days in Philadelphia, Andrew found himself stuck on a grounded plane for hours and hours before returning home exhausted at 1:30am. So on Saturday we were both in complete survival mode, each of us taking the kids for three hours at a time so the other could sleep. We would groggily pass each other in the exchange of the boys, vaguely aware of where we were or what day it was.
Sunday was much better.
While Andrew was out of town, I admit I was on the verge of tears more than two times. But I held it together and even managed to have a lot of fun with the boys. The whole experience led me to the following conclusions: I am not a perfect parent; I do not function well on little sleep; and three boys is a lot of boys.
I don’t know how it was for Andrew’s mom (he is the youngest of three boys very close in age), but I am kind of in awe of her right now. Her ability to stay positive and playful while raising them baffles my mind sometimes. Honestly, this nasty negative monster sometimes takes over my body and I want to hide under a rock just to get some peace and quiet. And I hope that if Milo, Oliver, or Emil read this someday, they know how incredibly much I love them and would never trade them for anything in the world… but wow. Some days these three just never stop moving, screaming, yelling, and banging on stuff!
But there is something else that emerges. Within it all, I see them together. Not just as three little boys, but as three brothers who grow closer with every passing day and genuinely care about each other. At the Botanical Gardens just the other day, Milo suddenly stood between Oliver and another little boy and in true big brother form, hands on hips, chest puffed up, challenged: “Are you teasing my little BROTHER?!” I honestly don’t know what happened or didn’t happen, but let’s just say that was the end of it. Part of me wanted to laugh, part of me wanted to cry, and the other part just beamed with pride and affection for my loyal big boy. Seeing these two play and get into mischief and rough each other up and defend each other is more wonderful than I ever could have imagined. I am so glad they have each other, especially when their mama has had quite enough!
Wait til Emil can walk…
***all photos taken by Andrew***