Friday, November 21, 2014

Boston Angels and Cold Oceans

I'm officially that mom.   The one at Trader Joes with the two older kids careening around with the little carts, while the two year old throws a temper tantrum because he wants one too.   I'd nip that business in the bud if I weren't busy trying to get my troublesome nurser latched on so he can stop joining the cacophony.   The solution here of course is to simply not take four hungry, tired children grocery shopping right at dinner time, but unfortunately food doesn't magically appear in the fridge and pantry (although I wouldn't say no to a dependable house brownie or two right now.) 

The checkout lady had the audacity to put a bag of groceries in Robbie's seat and the ensuing meltdown nearly punctured the eardrums of everyone in Mission Valley.   While I was administering loving but firm discipline and training (read, dragging him by the ankle out of the way so people could get by us.).   A guardian angel swooped in with her iphone and a video of her daughter doing gymnastics.  Her co-angel took my cart to my car and loaded my groceries into the trunk while playing a states and capitals game with my older kids.   Charlie asked why they talked so funny.  They said everyone from Boston talks that way. Now Jamie thinks all nice people are from Boston.  Cough cough. 

Other than an opinionated two year old who can't talk and a newborn who doesn't eat well, I feel like I'm actually maybe, kinda, sorta getting a hang of this four kid thing. 

I know they always say the firstborn has tons of pictures and it goes steadily downhill from there with every subsequent kid, but I don't think that applies in this era of smart phones.    The Ramsey version was taking our firstborn to dip his toes in the ocean almost the second we got him out of the NICU.  Our fourth-born?  Poor William spent two days a week in utero at the beach, but after he was actually born, he had to wait two and a half months before his parents went on a much needed date, got into an argument during a walk on the beach about whether or not the baby had actually been to the beach yet or not, and then unceremoniously toe dipped in a cold ocean late at night in November. 

Believe it or not...he was still a big fan.  Welcome to the Pacific ocean, my future little beach baby!