For some reason, this was the first weekend in recent memory that I haven't collapsed into bed on Sunday night and felt like I had been hit by a truck. A truck driven by four, small people.
I laughed a lot. I mean, we always laugh a lot in our house. How could we not? But this weekend I seemed to more than usual. Was it Ellie's calls of: "Last one upstairs gets a rotten egg?" or was it Lucy, padding around the house and singing (in quite a good tune, I might add) Barney's "I Love You" song? Over. And over. And over.
Anyway I am not questioning the laughter. Laughter is good, since I also spent an inordinate amount of time keeping these people (the smaller two, obviously) from falling headfirst off chairs.
Speaking of laughing...
...Harry, at his first haircut was...decidedly not doing so.
Pre-haircut, big brother Leo (who knows a thing or two about haircut trauma) was clearly concerned for his little Hair-Bear.
Ahh. Much better. And I didn't even cry! There is something about official "first" haircuts that always makes little boys look so transformed, so "old" (where's my bay-beeeeee?!) yet this time, I just thought Harry looked perfect. And clean. Did I mention this is the boy who likes to rub oatmeal/pasta/yogurt/anything he can eat, into the back of his hair? This new do' should make life a bit tidier.
At least, in theory.
On Sunday we went out to brunch with the gang. I'm always struck by the leaps the babies make in just a month. Most times, brunch with all four is akin to dining with four escaped convicts, but for some reason, yesterday was different. Of course it was still anything but relaxing, but I always feel very accomplished when we do anything that involves leaving the house for a few hours.
Lucy at brunch was a character. Are you familiar with Bread and Jam for Frances?
"He took a bite of sandwich, a bite of egg and a drink of milk. Then he went around again. Albert made the sandwich, the egg and the milk, come out even."
This is what she reminded me of. There was Lucy, sipping her water (cup with a straw), taking tiny, delicate bites of her biscuit and finally, pinching miniature finger-fuls of scrambled eggs.
Now if I can just keep everyone upright in a chair, we'll be good.