I'm going to need another shoulder...

Going from no kids to one definitely had its challenges and joys. Going from one child to two brought new and different challenges, along with happiness never before imagined. I am starting to wonder how on earth anybody deals with three children. Peyt and The Little Boxer always have to have exactly the same things - same size - same amount - same time - or it's the end of the world for one of them.

Just this morning, Peyt was eating his cold cereal. I was making a piece of toast for The Little Boxer, and we were almost late for preschool. I'm running around like a chicken with its head cut off (never actually seen this) responding to the requests of my children while trying to gather up the keys, Peyt's backpack (which is pretty much pointless for preschool, but again, it is the end of the world if we don't take it). P wants a drink of milk...get milk for P...run upstairs and grab P's shoes...The LB sees P's milk and wants her own...get clean sippy cup out of drawer and fill with milk and give to LB...the toast is done...put butter on it and give to LB, who by this time is crying watching P eat cereal and starving for her own food...realize P didn't get socks on like I'd asked him to...run upstairs to get socks while yelling over and over "hurry, we're going to be late. we don't want to be late for preschool. take a bite of your cereal. stop staring outside and eat. leave LB alone!! get off her highchair. eat your cereal. we don't want to be late! take another bite of your cereal"...P starts crying because in the midst of me running upstairs to get socks and yelling about how we are going to be late for preschool, I didn't hear him tell me that he wanted a piece of toast just like LB..."stop crying and ask nicely and I'll get you some"...I rip LB's toast in half (I can make her more when we get home from taking P to preschool)...give half to P...run upstairs to put on my own shoes and socks...P comes after me..."Why mama (this is what he calls me these days, I don't know why), why did you give LB the bigger piece. Her toast is bigger than mine. That is not fair. That is not fair. That is not fair!"..(We've been teaching about sharing and being fair. Why do well meant lessons always backfire? It seems like everything is "not fair" around our house these days.)...I deal with this unfairness in the best way I know..."LB is smaller than you so she needs more food, and we are going to be late for preschool."..(This argument also works very well in reverse - "I get more ice cream or a bigger cookie because I am bigger" - The only problem with this is then I get told how that is not a nice thing to say. I am being very mean and I need to say I'm sorry and not say that anymore. Whenever P used to have friends over to play, he would bombard them with statements of "I'm bigger than you...I'm older than you...my feet are bigger than yours" which would cause the "friend" to retaliate, "no, I'm bigger than you...I'm older than you...my feet are the biggest" and inevitably someone ends up crying. I've been trying to teach him to say things like "I'm big...I'm old..my feet are big." He figured it out, but like I said, all well-meant lessons backfire. Now if I say anything about something or someone being bigger or older than something else, (i.e. that cookie is bigger than that cookie), I am not being very nice and get a lecture from my three year old.) Anyway, to make this impossibly long story a little shorter, I'll summarize by saying, we got in the car, I brought LB's blanket because she was still in her jammies and didn't have a coat on. P cried because we didn't bring his blanket. I gave him a book that we had in the car to pacify him for the 23 second drive to preschool. LB started to cry because she wanted a book - at least that is what I am assuming as she can't yet talk. We dropped P off at preschool and I went back to the life of one child for just a few hours. I gave LB both the book and the blanket and another piece of toast with absolutely no calls of "UNFAIR," and finally sat down to eat my own breakfast.

And again, I seem to have gone way overboard in the explanation of one simple picture. Besides battles over food and treats and toys and clothes and shoes and books and vacuums and brooms, every day is also a battle of who gets to sit on mommy's lap and lay on mommy's shoulder. At least for now, we have figured out a compromise that sort of works. After all, I have two shoulders and two legs. Aside from LB shoving P in the face every few minutes to try to get him away so she can have mommy all to herself, it is the most wonderful feeling in the world to have these two little angels fight over me and eventually be happy with their own shoulder. This is one of the those moments I never imagined could bring so much joy. I just don't know how it's going to work if I have another baby.

"P, I promise, my knee is just as soft as my shoulder."