Three out of four ain't bad.
That's what I keep telling Ben, anyway. "Don't feel bad, Ben. You did your part in the majority of our children. Your good genes just decided to take a break with this one." That way, while getting him to accept full responsibility, I'm also completely uplifting at the same time. :)
Of course there is really no need for anyone to accept responsibility. What kind of a mother do you think I am?? Rambo is perfect and we believe he is exactly as God has made him ready to fulfill whatever plans He has for him.
The past two weeks have been filled with a whole lot of nothing. Well, okay, I take that back. Only if you consider constant fussing (and by fussing I mean absolute flipping out, crying, someone has taken over this child, leg kicking, not breathing because I'm 'screaming', sweating, body stiffening, overall unhappiness) nothing. And, of course, I do. I know that every child goes through stages like this. But, oh my soul, I'm losing my mind. There are moments when he just wants to be held and rocked and talked to and then there are moments where no one in the world could tell you what he wants. In other words: he's being a baby. I can't take it!! Hahahaha. Don't take this the wrong way but there are times when I long for him to be sedated again. I keep telling myself that if he were a regular baby I'd just strap him to my side and walk around the house with him while I'm doing all the other stuff that needs to be done. I don't think that thought process is very helpful to me.
But on the flip side of that coin, he is so darn cute. It also forces me to spend time with him. Time that would most likely be wasted in doing other things that would cause me to miss out on this stage in his life. He's learning new things each week. He's getting so big.
Videos and pictures to come as soon as I figure out how to use Ben's computer. Which means Ben will have to do it later. But for now, the beast.. uh... I mean Rambo has awoken. So with my vodka spiked highly caffeinated coffee I'm off to be super mom. And by 'super' I mean average.
Of course there is really no need for anyone to accept responsibility. What kind of a mother do you think I am?? Rambo is perfect and we believe he is exactly as God has made him ready to fulfill whatever plans He has for him.
The past two weeks have been filled with a whole lot of nothing. Well, okay, I take that back. Only if you consider constant fussing (and by fussing I mean absolute flipping out, crying, someone has taken over this child, leg kicking, not breathing because I'm 'screaming', sweating, body stiffening, overall unhappiness) nothing. And, of course, I do. I know that every child goes through stages like this. But, oh my soul, I'm losing my mind. There are moments when he just wants to be held and rocked and talked to and then there are moments where no one in the world could tell you what he wants. In other words: he's being a baby. I can't take it!! Hahahaha. Don't take this the wrong way but there are times when I long for him to be sedated again. I keep telling myself that if he were a regular baby I'd just strap him to my side and walk around the house with him while I'm doing all the other stuff that needs to be done. I don't think that thought process is very helpful to me.
But on the flip side of that coin, he is so darn cute. It also forces me to spend time with him. Time that would most likely be wasted in doing other things that would cause me to miss out on this stage in his life. He's learning new things each week. He's getting so big.
Videos and pictures to come as soon as I figure out how to use Ben's computer. Which means Ben will have to do it later. But for now, the beast.. uh... I mean Rambo has awoken. So with my vodka spiked highly caffeinated coffee I'm off to be super mom. And by 'super' I mean average.
Comments
Post a Comment