survivingmyboyz

tales from a stay-at-home mom of four boys

Archive for the month “December, 2013”

Needing to increase my survival skills

When I first started this blog, it was to record some of the craziness that goes along with raising three boys. In order to survive, it takes a lot of patience, wine, and humor. Well, yesterday I found out that I’m going to need a lot more patience, wine, and humor because next spring we are going to have another boy to survive. That’s right, four boys under age six in one house! I’m in trouble.

When I first told people that I was pregnant again, aside from people wondering if I was crazy, most people told me they were hoping I’d finally get a girl. There was a lot of talk about a little girl with three older brothers and how protected and such a princess she’d be. My in-laws even began looking up Irish girl names the night before we opened the envelope with the sex of the baby in it (we saved it for Christmas morning). People assumed this fourth one had to be a girl because I already had three boys and I just had to have a little girl. I felt like people were worried for me incase I didn’t get that little girl. I even felt like the ultra sound tech was trying to prep me for the let down of it being another boy without actually telling me the sex of the baby. The thing that most people didn’t seem to get is, I didn’t want a little girl.

Sure, when I got pregnant with my first child, I wouldn’t have minded a little girl, but I just wanted a healthy baby, which I got. With my second child, I would have loved a girl so I could have one of each, but I wasn’t disappointed to have another boy. By the time I had two boys, I had kind of decided that I was meant to be the mom of boys, it just seemed to work for me, so I wasn’t surprised that the third was a boy. It was around that time that I decided that I kind of wanted four boys, even though my husband didn’t want more kids. I thought maybe later we would adopt another boy. I had this picture in my head of all my teenage boys, taller than me, but still my babies, hanging around our house with all their equally large friends, raiding my fridge, causing chaos, and me smacking them up the backside of the head when they burped or made a disgusting remark. Sure we would have to shop 3 times a week at Costco and still never have food, there would be dirty, smelly socks everywhere, and I’d have to go back to work just to pay for shoes for their constantly growing feet, but was my idea of an ideal future.

What all the people who were wishing a girl for me didn’t seem to get was that the idea of a daughter terrified me. I’m 37 years old, I have three boys already, raising boys is an old hat to me, I know what I’m doing (sort of). Introducing a daughter to our family right now would throw us into complete chaos (I mean, more than the everyday chaos here). I wouldn’t know what to do with a little girl. I know my husband would refuse to change her diapers because of “all the folds down there” so he won’t know what to do. We would need different clothes and different toys. Plus, I have two nieces, one who is in third grade and already acts like a teenager, I don’t need all that drama, that’s what my oldest son is for. In my house we are all about fart jokes, superheroes, and playing rough. A little girl would never survive in our house and I’m too old to start over and learn a new way to parent. So I was secretly praying for a fourth boy and when we opened that envelope on Christmas morning, I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

So now I just need to prep for a little more chaos come this spring. I’ll have to stock up on wine, take yoga classes, and practice smiling through the craziness, but I will survive my four boys, even if my furniture doesn’t.

My life now

Here’s my life these days. TMI warning.

I feel sick because I need to eat, so I eat. Then I feel sick because I ate. I take an anti-nausea pill to help feel better. Then I get constipated from the pill, which makes me feel bloated and sick from my lack of ability to poop. Then I feel nauseous again, but I also really need to poop. Eventually I end up on the toilet trying to push out a poop while puking into a bucket. And then my stomach is empty and the whole thing starts again.

This is my life now, and I’m way past the usual period of morning sickness. Oh the fun life of a pregnant woman.

Blame the two year old

Ok, so I should take a little responsibility for this, after all, I am the adult, so yes, maybe I’m a little crazy, but mostly I blame the two year old.

The problem is, he’s just so darn cute and lovable. He is just the sweetest little thing and at such a fun age. He’s two, but hasn’t hit his stride as a terrible two year old yet (besides, I think three is way worse). Everything about him makes me happy. His laugh makes me smile, his little belly screams to be zurberted, and his checks need to be kissed. I just want to hug and kiss him all the time. It is this overwhelming cuteness that I blame. Well, that and my reasoning in Kindergarten and A Vasectomy.

Whatever the reasoning (or lack there of)behind my thought process (maybe temporary insanity should be claimed), some how I find myself in the spot that I’m in today; 18 weeks pregnant with my fourth child. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very happy, though also very sick most of the time, but I do have flashes of reality that lead me to believe that I probably wasn’t thinking very clearly when I devised this “what the hell, let’s give it one more shot” plan. Even more perplexing is how I got my husband to go along with it. I guess we really didn’t have much time to reconsider the plan and back out though since our plan seemed to be successful one of the first two times we tried it.

My husband is happy about our pending fourth child too (most of he time), but he wasn’t exactly on board when he first found out. I guess the timing could have been better though. A week into my husband’s recovery from his vasectomy I sent him a text at work with a picture of a positive pregnancy test. It took him about three days before he really said anything about our new reality. When he finally did say something, he made a joke about our future with four kids and I knew he’d worked out any issues he was having. Maybe if I’d waited at least until his manhood had stopped hurting before telling him, he would’ve only need one day to come to terms with thing.

However we got here, we are all on board with the idea of a fourth child, even the boys, and we are almost to the halfway mark. In two more weeks, we will even know what we are having. Of course, all three boys are in agreement that this baby had better be another boy, though each has their own plan if it isn’t. My youngest says he won’t be nice to a baby sister, but will be to a baby brother (I think he’ll just be so glad to not be the youngest anymore that he will terrorize the baby no matter the sex). My middle son has informed me that I’m the only girl allowed in the family and if he gets a sister, he is going to fart in her (again, still probably going to happen no matter what). My oldest though has real reasons for wanting to throw the baby out and get rid of her if she’s a girl. My oldest doesn’t want to have a sister because he wants to be able to “show off (his) goods” whenever and wherever he wants to and he can’t do that with a girl in the house.

Whatever happens with this fourth kid, whether they are a terror and become the breaking point for my husband and I, or they are just a disappointing sister instead of a brother, I have my scapegoat ready to free me from blame. I’m simply just going to keep a picture handy of my current youngest at this age and tell everyone it is his fault. After all, if he just wasn’t so darn cute and lovable, I wouldn’t have wanted another one like him so badly.

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