Lesson Learned

"We have our hands full." I never fully appreciated the sentiment behind that statement until I had a second child.

Let me try to sum up my negative feelings about mothering two boys (I have lots of positive feelings too, but we'll save those for another post): I feel like my children are glued to me with the adhesive of their bodily fluids--sweat, tears, wet and dirty diapers, breastmilk, boogers, and most of all, spit up. If that sounds gross, that's because it is. On Friday when Zach got home from work I literally peeled the baby off of me and handed him over to my understanding and helpful husband.

Having two boys, two babies, has been sometimes easier and sometimes more difficult than I thought it would be. It's not too bad when the weather is nice and I can take the kiddos outside, but it feels impossible if I try to take them on any kind of errand or trip that requires the car. Friday morning I attempted to take the boys on our first outing in the car. Here's a play-by-play:

First I got us all dressed and ready--an accomplishment in itself. Then I packed up a diaper bag with what I thought was Everything A Momma Could Possibly Need for the next hour that we would be out of the house. I got a crying baby strapped into a carseat and convinced my toddler to "COME HERE!" so I could put his jacket and shoes on while I attempted to soothe the baby by rocking his carseat with my foot. Then I put my shoes on and thought to myself, "I was so excited to be able to tie my own shoes once I wasn't pregnant anymore, but now I don't have time to tie my own shoes!"

I looked around for my keys and remembered they were in the jogging stroller, so I got the kiddos out to where our strollers are, snapped the baby's seat into the other stroller, and walked out the door...sans keys. I looked up and down the street only to realize I had no idea where the car was, called the hubs to ask where he had parked, and barked at him when he couldn't remember. I perched Isaac on the handle bars of the stroller and walked to the car only to realize I didn't have those dang keys. Cussing quietly, I walked back to the condo, rang every single person's buzzer and was let in the building by a kind neighbor. Got the keys, walked back to the car and snapped both babies in. Thankfully all the walking soothed Ando to sleep, so the trip to Izey's Moms and Tots class was peaceful.

As we arrived at the class, I realized that neither Izey nor I had had our morning snack and we were both hungry. A recipe for disaster. The three of us had a good time playing (well, Ando had a good time chillin' in the sling) until close to the end of class, when Izey got pretty melancholy. Trying to lure him back into his coat and on toward the car, I asked him if he wanted some french fries. He did. NOW. He cried pathetically, "Izey want french fries!" all the way to the car, while I buckled him and his brother in, and all the way to McDonalds. I was trying to explain to him that I didn't have the fries yet and that we were on our way to get them all the while trying to drive a stick and stuff a pacifier in a screaming baby's mouth--oh yeah, he had woken up and was also hungry. So they both cried all the way to McDonalds and all the way through the drive through.

Finally I delivered the promised french fries to the backseat, parked, pulled a red-faced infant from his seat, and revealed a breast to any passers-by who happened to look to see where all that crying was coming from, and we all chowed down.

The lesson of the day: Never Ever Ever Forget Snack!