Awkward Mom vs. Four

Hello, True Believers; it's time for you to meet the Fantastic Four! No, not that one. This one is more awkward. 

When Super Toddler entered our family, I first contended with the villain Three. Three is a mighty villain who specializes in subtle juggling; just a little more, you can do it. Go ahead and carry the butter dish and the plates and the milk jug to the table all at once. Nothing is gonna happen. Nothing like the cat racing through the kitchen at this precise moment. No, no. Don't worry. You can do it all. Three has crept up on me time and time again these past 2 years of adjustment; he is such a creeper. A big ol' creep. And he always wins. He always fools me. He always convinces me that going to Target with all three of them will be a good idea this time. He always gets the upper hand and wins the battle. I used to think that it was just me and my awkward ways, but it turns out that this happens to other moms as well. Three is just that powerful.

So, imagine my nervousness as I awaited the villain Four. If Three is so hard, what on earth does Four have in store? (And I don't think lame rhymes are gonna do much against him, eh?) Well, Super Baby is here; he's actually 5 weeks old. We have been a family with four children for over a month. And Four has yet to show up.

Or maybe he has. Maybe Four is so big, powerful, and scary that my little mind couldn't take it and I have retreated into my own imagination; creating a reality for myself where things are actually okay, I actually posses some parenting skills, and chocolate bars grow on a tree in my front yard. Could be, but my Emma Frost powers never were very strong and what normal woman can pull off that outfit anyway?

No. (Seriously, with that outfit, just no.) What I think is really going on is that Four really did arrive. Four is here and has been here since Super Baby eased himself into that hospital room with a tiny little peep and a bemused expression.

It's like this: let's pretend you are walking around in a new city, all alone, and you are lost. You take a wrong turn and you are in a dark alley. You turn to leave, but a huge, heavily tattooed biker is standing in the way. It is shadowy and you can't see his face, but his chains start to clink in a menacing way as he walks toward you. You scream and flee. He chases you. You hit a dead end. You turn around and prepare to fight him with what little strength you have before giving up completely. All hope is lost. You look up into the face of this monster, who smiles sweetly at you and says, "Miss? You dropped your wallet back there. Here it is. Do you need any help? You look a little lost."

Four is no villain; he's a Hero.

Despite appearances, Four is not here to make me crazy or hurt me in any way. Four is here to help me enter this next phase of my motherhood, and this phase appears to be a calm, gentle place full of acceptance, balance, and good-enough-ness. Which makes so much sense, if you think about it. Three is the number of things that set the world on fire: the Trinity, trimesters, dimensions, Bee Gees. But what comes in fours but items that bring balance to the force and beyond; seasons, square sides, directions, mutant turtles, winds, card suits, wheels, A-teams, elements, states of matter, and, most importantly, Beatles.

You know what else comes in Fours? Fantastic Fours. And this too makes so much sense to me. Each member of my fantastic four has entered my motherhood journey at just the right time and with just the right personality.

Super Kindergartener (or Mr. Fantastic) with his boundless curiosity, quiet genius, and enormous flexibility came to me when I was just learning what being a mom meant. He took the lead because he is a natural leader and saw that I needed someone to walk me through things. My transition from no kids to 1 kid was by far the harder transition of my life, and you want a kind genius on your side for that.

Super Preschooler (or the Thing) battered down any walls I might have had around my heart with his relentless charm, deceptive sweetness, and sheer force of will. He looks like none of his siblings. He acts like none of his siblings. In fact, he acts like no one else I know, and he wears his uniqueness with no shame or fear. He burst into my life just when I was thinking that all children behaved like the super cerebral, logical, and orderly Super K. Not so. Super P. widened my view of what children could be and made me more accepting of their differences and the different ways to parent. Some children are messy, imaginative, and have emotions like tsunamis. Some children will keep you guessing your whole life. Some children were born to break the rules.

Super Toddler (or the Human Torch) picked up where her brother left off and obliterated any rules that may have still been in existence. Where Super P. prefers to violate norms and change things by simply being an unmovable presence of cheerful stubbornness, Super Toddler like to lead with her lightsaber and go down in a blaze of glory. She'll slash through your conventions so fast that you won't know what hit you, until she kisses you right on the mouth, winks, and then dances away in a cloud of her own laughter. She is fierce and more than a little dangerous. A fire cracker who likes to joke, eat, and embrace all that life has to offer. And she wants it all; Right Now. Super Toddler showed up just when I was starting to feel a little too comfortable. A little too safe. And a little too bored. Sometimes you need a little fire to remind you that you are alive. That your life is now and happening all around you without your say-so. Better get in there and live it, or it is going to pass you by as fast as a comet of laughter and light.

Super Baby (or the Invisible Woman) is a gentle presence who pulls all to himself almost as if he has the power to create invisible and powerful force fields. He is a subtle unifier who can silence a room with a look from his endless eyes. He doesn't need to shout to convince us of his power and personality; he just lets his amazing hair speak for itself. Super Baby coos and his siblings rush to him to see what he needs. Or thinks. Or wants to do next. He brings them together and strengthens their natural skills just by his existence in their lives. Super Baby's lesson to me is soft and sweet; you are enough, Mommy. Hold me. Love me. I want no more than that. Perhaps a little milk, the occasional diaper change, but you could do that in your sleep. You are all we need, Mommy. As is. Totally awkward, with no need for improvement or stress. Just you. Those eyes of his say a lot, but they are endless, so it figures. Super Baby is the great balance of this family; a family thrown off-kilter by that villainous Three. We need fear Three no more, for Super Baby knows how to wield the power of Four.

The Fantastic Four is here to stay. Believe the hype.

At least, until Awkward Mom and Dad decide to see what a fifth child would bring to the family. There is always a danger with odd numbers, as you then create a bonafide middle child. However, with 5, the middle child would be this one:

They'll probably risk it. 

Awkward Mom vs. Time

Awkward Mom's flux capacitor is at full flux this morning. 

Time is one of my super villains. His hours move so slowly and his days move so quickly; it's all so confusing and leaves me wondering when my life is going to start. Meanwhile, his years are flying by me like they are driving a souped-up DeLorean or something. It's a big problem and a battle I usually lose.

But not this morning. This morning, Time pulled a rare hero turn, like that time Magneto helped the X-men defeat the Beyonder. (Only follow that link if Time is on your side and you have a couple hours to kill.) This morning, while Awkward Dad bustled around getting Super Kindergartner ready for school and Super Toddler operated the Netflix to her heart's content, I lay in bed, feeding Super Baby. Super Preschooler wandered in and cuddled up next to us so he could "see Super Baby's eyes." Then, while the rising sun warmed the walls and promised that spring might actually come this year, Super P. told Super Baby the following story:

"Hello, Brother. Someday, when you are big like me, we will go ride some rockets. I have some good ones. They will get us all the way to the moon or anywhere else you want to go. We could also dig up some dinosaur bones, if you want to. That's fun. Then, we'll visit Invisible Grandpa because he always knows what fun things there are to do. Bebe and I ride motorcycles with him all the time, he's great. He is here, on the ceiling fan, and he thinks you are cool. See him? Hi Invisible Grandpa! When we are really big, Brother, we can be rock stars. You will play drums. I made a instrument to play, it's a Trambo. It's really cool. Then, we'll be Jedis. Or maybe Fetts. We'll also drive planes. They have parachutes in them and you can jump out and see the whole world. We will do everything, Brother. Drink your milk now."

Time stood still. He had to in the face of that much imaginative and hopeful power.

How could I possibility fear Time with the Supers here to protect me. They aren't afraid of the future; a wonderful place with rockets and trambos. They don't worry about the past; beautiful memories that grow bigger and more beautiful in the telling. They aren't pondering the present; they are ripping the wrapping paper off and turning the box into a plane to parachute out of. Time is nothing to them and his power wanes before their boundless enthusiasm. So, I figure that I will stick close to the Supers, they seem to know what they are doing against Time and his minions. I'll let Super P. drive. Anyone who can ride rockets and jump out of planes should have no trouble driving time machines.

"The way I see it, if you're gonna build a time machine into a car, why not do it with some style? 

 I asked Super Preschooler when Super Baby will be big enough to do all these things, and he thinks that next week should be enough time for Super Baby to advance to adventure age. 

Awkward Mom vs. Meijer

We are starting to think that Meijer is Awkward Mom's Waterloo. Some battles just aren't meant to be won.

I am not stupid; I expected the stares. I mean, you don't wander into Meijer (or anywhere for that matter) with 4 children under the age of 6 and expect people not to stare. No, the stares didn't surprise me.

I was kinda surprised all the children fit in one cart though. Guess I shouldn't have been; it was one of those super-long carts with balcony seating and room for a pony. Plus, the Supers are pocket sized. No, the cart wasn't too surprising either. But there were a few things that were.

I was surprised:

1.) That people would look at my children like they were rotting piles of offal, rather than adorable and relatively well-behaved children hanging out of a shopping cart. I mean, check it:

I mean, I am pretty biased, but these are beauties.

They were even completely clothed and shoed for this outing.

2.) That a woman in a motorized scooter, going about 55 MPH down the cereal aisle, would try to run over Super Preschooler and then yell at me to "watch your children!"

3.) By the two (TWO!) mumblers who thought I should "find some birth control."

4.) By the woman who straddled the Hair Care aisle and wouldn't move, so I had to abandon my children at the end of the row and squeeze by her to get some shampoo. Which resulted in:

5.) The grandmother who decided I had abandoned my children and scolded me, upon my return to them, to "never let them out of my sight. Someone will snatch them in a second." I just smiled and nodded, instead of pointing out that my eyesight was probably a little better than hers, and thus they had been in my sight the whole time. Plus, why does she know so much about kidnapping? Did I disturb her while she was engaging in one? No, wasn't worth it.

6.)  By the man who announced to the whole store, at the top of his lungs, that I had "lost one!" Buddy, if I can see her over there lurking by the horse while I am paying for my groceries about 10 feet away, then I haven't "lost" her. Let's cool it and not call out the dogs just yet.

7.) And by the general abundance of annoyed and irritated looks thrown in my direction. They are slightly noisy, fine. Sometime they fly off the cart and jump around. But overall, they were actually really well-behaved. Super Baby slept the whole time. Super Toddler only got excited near the horse. Super Preschooler was excited by the presence of Lucky Charms, hence the near-hit-and-run. And Super Kindergartener only asked for 13 different things, which is pretty good, for him. Does the mere presence of children annoy some people? Must be.

However, these weren't the only things to surprise me at Meijer today. I was also surprised:

1.) By how strong I am. Seriously, I basically haul 4 different level weights around all day. Sometimes I move them in and out of a moving shopping cart, just to keep things interesting.

2.) That the frat boy in the yogurt section let us go around the corner first and didn't seem irritated at all. His passing comment that "you must be ripped, that thing is as big as a barge!" was actually fairly flattering.

3.) That 3 different people, including a cashier, tried to give Super Toddler a penny for the horse while she forlornly pet his flank and kissed his nose.

4.) By the grandmother over in the pharmacy who told me that "you are so lucky, they are adorable!"

5.) That my children are so easily bribed. Today's shopping trip only cost me 3 candy Easter eggs and a penny ride on the horse that I didn't actually have to pay for. Cheap dates.

6.) By the man buying Lotto tickets who found and returned Super Kindergartener's hat. Losing his place in line to do so.

7.) By each and every store employee who asked me if I needed any help. Pretty sure there were about 7 of them.

8.) That Super Baby waited until we got home to create his first ever blow-out diaper. It was massive and would have created quite the messy scene. The boy's timing continues to be perfection.

9.) That the friendly t-shirted man in the parking lot hollered at us that "this doesn't look like snow, now does it?" Upon my reply that "I certainly hope not," he replied that "it might be worth it, if the kids enjoy it."

10.) By the gentleman that helped me unload my groceries into my van and then returned my cart for me.

11.) By each and every stare at my crowded cart that ended with a face-splitting smile. Bonus points to the older gentleman who winked at me and told me that my "parade float" made his day.

12.) That the woman who called me a saint was so kind to us that Super Toddler decided to hug her upon our departure from the store.

All in all, lots of surprises at Meijer today. Some more pleasant than others. Let's hope for that tomorrow because I forgot to get about half of my list........

Basically, life is a fairy tale; there are trolls and there are fairy godpeople. All you can ask is that you run into more fairy godpeople. Today, we were pretty weighted in the fairy godpeople direction; way more win than Waterloo. 

If Napoleon had had this one at Waterloo, things might have ended differently....

Awkward Mom vs. Marriage

As with any post that heavily involves Awkward Dad, this is gonna get nerdtastic super fast. Just warning you now.....

I have waxed poetic on the risks of super-hero-dating in the past, so I won't bore you. Basically, you need to remember 5 things:

1. Your dates will NOT be boring. Someone is sure to need saving while you are on your romantic stroll through Central Park and before you know it, you are somehow flying to Latveria so your honey can deal with someone named the Marquis of Death. In these situations it is always good to have your own interests. Take time to sight-see; I hear Latveria is lovely in the fall and the Doom's Day festivals are a sight to behold.

2. If you are both superheros and you are both on the Avengers, it might be best not to hook up. Because that is gonna be one very awkward breakfast in Stark Tower. Just have incredible and unspoken sexual tension; it's better for readership anyway.

3. Your honey probably has his/her suit on under their clothes. At all times. Might wanna factor this in when pondering "romantic" moments. Latex is kinda hard to just slip on and off, you know? Look here, we are all adults, so I am not gonna spell it out. Just factor in some extra time, OK?

4. Your honey's super villain is going to find out about you. They are usually super evil geniuses or have a million henchmen, so you are not gonna keep this relationship on the down low for long. And this super villain is gonna come after you, there is no question here. It is just a matter of how. You have some options. You could break up, citing his/her "job" as the reason. You could get used to being saved at the last moment; not great for your stress levels but good for building trust in your relationship. Or you could take a bath in some radioactive ooze and see if you can develop some powers of your own. I recommend the last one, but I am a modern woman of the world.

5. Just don't date Daredevil. His dating track record is a little death-heavy. If you like angst, you can throw your hat in with Spiderman, but stay away from bridges, OK? I worry about you.

So, just be safe. Or don't date superheroes. Or be a lone wolf; it seems to work for Wolverine. (Unless you count the unrequited love he is clearly in with a currently-dead telepath. Wait. Is Jean still dead? With the X-men, you never really know.) Or date a "civilian," but be aware that, given your superhero status, you will be endangering them all the time. If you can live with that, go ahead.

Or pull an Awkward Mom and find yourself a Foggy.

Here's mine:

He's the one on the left. 

Although, Pikachu is looking mighty fine in this photo. 

I wonder if he has been working out?

If you have been reading this blog for any length of time, you know that Awkward Dad is basically Perfect Dad with a killer sense of humor, the patience of a saint, and little to no taste in spouses. To celebrate Super Baby's 10th day of life outside the womb, here are 10 amazing things about Awkward Dad that make me thank my lucky stars that he married me and not one of the Avengers.

1. His casual decision to have 4 children with me during his medical training and residency. Saying he makes this look easy is the understatement of the year; he makes it look like he actually enjoys it. You know what? I think he does!

2. His decision to feed Super Baby around midnight, every night, and still take Super Kindergartener to school, every day, even though it means losing more sleep. He is even using his lunch to pick up Super K. today because he doesn't want any of us out in the cold.

3. The man is adorable. Seriously, check it out:

That smile. Swoon.

4. He is one of the gentlest, kindest people I know. His patients are so incredibly lucky to have someone who honestly and truly cares about their mental health. One time, I asked Awkward Dad if he preferred the more complex mental health cases. A lot of psychiatrists say that they do because they make better case studies or journal articles or are just more challenging. Awkward Dad said, "No. My patients aren't cases. My patients are people. And people with intense and complex mental health issues are usually in a lot of pain, and all I want for my patients is a decrease in their pain and an increased ability for them to care for themselves and their mental health."

5. The man is crazy smart, but he refuses to traffic in that. Most people who meet us don't find out that he is a doctor for months. He doesn't hide it, but he finds it incredibly boring to talk about his career.

6. The man can, and will, talk about anything. With anyone. The day he met my father, they discussed, in this order, plant genetics, hierarchies in ancient civilizations, the Cubs chances this year (there was much laughter here), the history of salt, the origins of the Polish language, and what movies were good that weekend.

7. He is so so so funny.

8. There is nothing he won't do for his children. And I don't just mean the big stuff, like giving them kidneys or stopping bullets from hitting them. I mean, he is willing to look silly to play with them. He is happy to take them on outings, even though, with 4, this requires the planning and supplies of a moon voyage. He looks happy to be with them, even doing crazy things, like going to Greenfield Village with my Halloween-crazed mother and 3 children dressed in their Star Wars finery....

That's a real smile there, folks. He actually likes all the crazy.

9. His happy willingness to work a very intense, tiring job, and then come home to utter chaos. And there is no "hang-on-I-need-a-minute-to-myself-to-decompress," which would make total and complete sense. No, he just dives into the fray, makes dinner, supervises homework, does bedtime reading, gives baths, and urges me to go take a nap. I am starting to think he might actually be the real Superman, and it is only the lack of Lex Luthor showing up at my door with some nefarious plot that prevents me from totally buying Awkward Dad as the real Clark Kent. He certain is a Super Man.

10. He loves me. Warts and all.

Marriage isn't easy. Superheroes or not, marriage takes work, energy, commitment, and lots and lots of chocolate. However, if you have a Foggy, you have kind of an edge. I have an edge. A sweet, cuddly, warm, funny, wonderful, foggy edge.

And just because I know you want to see the baby, here ya go:

Not totally sure about this awkward place he has arrived in, 

but he does know this:

His father is amazing. 

His mom? 

Well, that is who is making this suspicious face at.....

Awkward Mom and Super Baby

Just so you know, Super Baby started the labor journey about 10 hours after Awkward Mom wrote her last post. This means that Super Baby can be nagged into doing things. Good to know for future reference.....

Well, Super Fetus is Super Baby. And Super Baby is a BOY!

He's perfect. And I don't mean like Perfect Baby. No, he is perfectly awkward, with a tendency toward the slothful and slow (his labor was over 24 hours start to finish). He has little red marks all over the place, scratches from his claw-like fingernails, and a weird birthmark on his forehead. He is still very much "4th trimester," with tiny shrimp-limbs all tucked into his body and a lolling head that likes to fling backwards with no warning. He is very small and gangling and still kinda fetal-looking; so basically, completely and totally beautiful. I mean, look at him! He's perfect. 

We are going back to gazing at Super Baby. Catch ya later! 

Awkward Mom vs. Still Pregnant

Yes, she is still pregnant. And yes, there is still room in the betting pool; just give Awkward Dad a shout. He has claimed "sometime in April 2015," but a lot of other spots are still free!

I have reached "still pregnant;" that horrible phase in the roughly 24th month of pregnancy when everything is done but the birthing. And the birthing can be any minute to 4 weeks away. I know I am supposed to be grateful and I am. I am grateful Super Fetus is happy and healthy. I am grateful he/she wasn't pre-term. I am grateful that I am healthy. (we'll talk about happy in a minute....) I am grateful to be having a fourth child at some point in the near (maybe far) future. I am so very grateful, but I am getting tired and this is getting endless.

Time sits heavy on me, much like this baby sits on my spine. All the tiny clothes are washed. All the doll-like diapers lined up in a little row. Car seat? Installed, rear-facing, and prepped with a blue cover and a pink one. Totally prepared. The baby swing is even up from the basement and clean, but if this baby doesn't hurry up, it may break. The Supers think it is a great toy.

I have reached the point where every conversation I have with someone begins with, "Oh, you are still pregnant?" and ends with "Well, just be patient and enjoy it, it could be any day!" I am unclear which part I am supposed to enjoy. The mood roller-coaster? The restlessness? The random pains in my legs? The sleeplessness? The near constant pain in my back? The constant and pointless Braxton Hicks contractions? Yes, yes, I know they are "practice contractions" and really very important to labor......This is child 4. If my body doesn't know how to do labor by now, then I don't even want to talk to her. Maybe I am supposed to enjoy the birthing story the departing person just told me; where their baby arrived 2 weeks early in a cloud of angel dust and no pain. I guess that is what I am supposed to have enjoyed. So, basically, I am trying to avoid all people right now.

Which I can't do because I have 3 other children who don't want to sit in the house with me and mope. I have no idea why they don't want to do this. They actually want to keep doing things. They want to stay busy and not fixated on every twinge and tweak my body experiences. They don't want to scour the internet for labor-inducing ideas that seem about as accurate as how they used to decide who was a witch. They don't want to restlessly move through the house and sigh a lot. They are not helping me dwell on my pain and disappointment. They want to live in the moment and enjoy every second of the day, regardless of what it brings; a new sibling or just more beautiful, exquisite life to be lived.

Darn genius children.

So, take your time, Super Fetus. Come when you are ready.

That said, you may wanna get out here and claim your swing. 

I found 4 My Little Ponies in it yesterday
and you know what kind of mess they make. 

Dearest Readers, if you see Awkward Mom out and about, looking in pain but not enough pain to go to the hospital, please don't tell her a birth story or offer the advice of "patience." That is unless you want to see her shift from "Still Pregnant" into "Angry Pregnant." 

Offers of food are always welcome though!  

Awkward Mom vs. Hibernation

So, when Awkward Mom decided to take a sabbatical from writing this blog, she was kinda looking at it like a form of sci-fi stasis that compassionate but misguided heroes always put the villains in before sending them off to the Negative Zone or some such place. (Not to be confused with Stasis herself.) Turns out that Awkward Mom's blog sabbatical is probably going to more closely resemble a long vacation at the Fortress of Solitude. If the Fortress of Solitude had Wi-Fi and was inhabited by 3 noisy children. So, not really a fortress or full of solitude at all. Anywho, don't look here for regular bloggings just yet, but she may make an appearance from time to time. When the Messy House of Noise gets a little too much.......

On the eve of Super Fetus' birth (or rather the 20th eve before the due date that I am really hoping is wrong) I am pondering who this whirling womb of bladder punching and spine sitting will turn out to be. It's a natural thought. I have spent 9 months with this person and I don't really know much, other than he/she does not like pasta sauce, enjoys midnights strolls around the house, and likes sandwiches with the passion of Jimmy John. Not a whole lot to go on. Will she be a scientist? Will he be a poet? Will she like dogs? Will he want to read by the windows when it rains? Will he be a she? Will she be a he? Are there two of them? OK, I know that one, Super Fetus is growing solo. So, maybe I also know that he/she likes space!

I am driving the car pool as I am thinking these thoughts and I look back into the rear view mirror, and into the not-so-distant past, to the gestation of three of the children back there. I can hear Super Kindergartener's relentless monologue about the weather in Russia, the various sports of the winter Olympics, and his thoughts on the word 'luge." He's a fan of it, basically. I don't know who he is talking to because Super Preschooler is whispering love poetry at the faint moon that has appeared on the horizon out his window. The little boy we drive home is shouting as loud as he can just to hear Super Toddler shout back, even louder. If this is some sort of decibel game, she is winning. Hands down. Or rather, up. To cover your ears.

I didn't picture any of this during their pregnancies. Oh, I had vague thoughts about scholarship and athletic prowess and adorable dimples. But the sheer power of personality in this beige Sienna is threatening to blow the doors off. (Which would be helpful, as they tend to stick when it is this cold.) And I could not have pictured any of that. Seriously, I always thought we would buy a Honda.

Super K.'s brain weaves and creates the most amazing scenarios ever weaved and created. I fully expect him to build a rocket ship in the backyard one of these days. And yet, he is no cold fish scientist, but one of the gentlest and most loving of friends, who seems to be able to read a room just as fast as he actually learned to read. A sensitive and kind soul, who makes me valentines year-round that announce "I love Mommy!" in delightful burgeoning handwriting that always misjudges the available space and has to call me, Mo-mmy, on 2 lines. There are about 12 of these hanging in the dining room alone, along with an art collection that he calls "Me, Daddy, and all the different lightsabers in the universe." No, my pregnancy wishes for my first born were pedestrian and uninspired compared to the kind genius who showed up 10 days late during a snowstorm.

The bold dreamer that is in love with the moon is like no one I have ever met. Super Preschooler is as unique as his ever-growing family of imaginary friends. His one-sided conversation with the moon is going something like this: "Hello Moon! You are out early today! Did you miss me? I missed you. Super K! Look, the moon came out for me! Invisible Grandpa can see it, can't you? Moon, Moon, Moon, Beautiful Moon. So sweet. Let's go visit Bebe and show her the beautiful moon, and then we can dance." Last night, in front of a glowing, and most hidden by his leaps, television he showed me his ice skating routine. Well, his ice skating pairs routine. Super Preschooler's moves were graceful and inspired, but he claims Invisible Grandpa is the stronger one of the two. I disagree. I think Super Preschooler is stronger than anyone I know; a will of iron stands beneath a grin as loose as his fly-away hair. This teflon poet was not who I expected when I had my second son on a sleety January morning 4 years ago. 3 weeks ahead of schedule.

And then there is the beautiful girl merrily screaming from the seat right behind me. A force of nature in a pair of pink pajamas festooned with monkeys and hearts, Super Toddler knows no limits. No boundaries. And no "noes." Girl does as she pleases and I am frankly surprised that she obeys the laws of gravity most days. She is very life itself; a power that predates the formation of the earth, with sticky hands, something unidentifiable in her hair, and a hunger that wants all the sausage. And wants it right now. She defies expectations. Of course, she does. She defies everything. There is nothing princess about Super Toddler; she is, and always will be, a queen. I could not have foreseen this, even as they laid her restless relentless body on my chest and announced that I now had "my girl!" They were wrong. I don't have Super Toddler. She has me; body and soul. As she did the second she appeared, right on her due date, to scream right in my face.

 
They all have me. Forever. And Super Fetus too. Whoever he or she is. I can't help but think about him or her; drifting dreams that will disappear the second I get to look in his or her boundless eyes and see the soul lurking there. The soul that I will never truly posses or be able to have. The soul more magnificent that anything I could have thought up about the being currently kicking my ribs. A soul I will have the privilege and pleasure of knowing just a little bit as it blooms and grows and eclipses everything else in my world. A soul that will slip into this family so seamlessly that we will wonder how we ever got along without it before. Without the knowledge or magic or pure energy that this new soul will share with us before heading out into the big, beautiful world to make it even bigger and more beautiful. I can't wait.

Seriously. I can't. 20 days is too long. Someone tell Super Fetus to hurry on up!

Not sure when we'll be back,
but there might be 4 Supers in the next picture you see! 

Well, like 17 really. 

Super Preschooler doesn't like to leave out anyone, even the invisible among us.