Pearls of Wisdom and Foolish Mutterings

Raising Kids is not for Sissies

I ask you, is there anything sweeter than a sleeping baby? This particular cutie-pie is my grandson, Ray. Today was a Mimi day - all four of my grandkids were here at some point. The day started with this little darling. He stayed with me while his mother took his brother, Isaiah, to a checkup with the doctor, then she came back here and we switched out babies, so she could take Ray to the doctor. Poor little guy has bronchitis. That's just not fair. Poor baby.

Isaiah, on the other hand, is doing really well. 19 pounds - fat little guy. He's so cute. Believe me, if you ever want to get an idea of just how old you really are, just get yourself a couple of babies for several hours and you will understand how really ancient you are. Trust me on that one.

Later in the day, after I had a brief period of time to recover, (when I say recover, I mean lay on the couch like I was dead and try to stop sweating and gasping for air) my other two grandchildren came over to see me. My daughter actually brought them, they didn't drive over alone or anything. Aiden, who is 6, sat on the couch with me and argued with me about the definitions of various words. I was looking the words up on Webster's Dictionary online and having him read the definitions, but he still insisted he knew better. Every so often, he would get up and run into the playroom to argue with his sister, Olivia, who is 4. He's really into arguing.

Then I went with them to Olivia's first gymnastics class. It was awesome. Olivia was very enthusiastic and she had a great time. Not so her brother. He was bored, he was hungry, he was tired.... Finally, the class was over and we all made our way to the car. In the twenty feet between the front door and the car, Aiden had about six meltdowns. He was very tired and everything set him off. He told me I squeezed his finger off when I held his hand. Then he got in the car and jumped over into the backseat (to get away from all of us, especially me because I squeezed his finger off, after all, who could blame him?) fell in the floor and got stuck. Meltdown. His mother rescued him and got him back in the seat. As he was putting his seatbelt on, he told us this was the worst day of his life.(He tends toward exaggeration.)

I told him, "Aiden, trust me, this is not the worst day of your life." To which he responded, "Trust you, I'm telling you it's the worst!"

I have no idea how I ever managed four, count 'em - 1,2,3,4 - kids all at one time. I must have had super-powers at the time.