On the first Tuesday (ahem – first clue right there, eh?) of the month, I try to make it to Baby Weighs to get a weight for Lincoln to put in his baby book. With Harrison, I was obsessed with BW and went every single week. As in, almost cried the time it snowed and I had to miss, but with Raegan it became more problematic (taking the 2.5er along + her not wanting to nurse there ever), and I learned to survive without it. Good thing, because with Lincoln it is even more problematic (the load time, the what-to-do-with-two-older-ones-in-tow, the excessive heat in the place – that last one is random and has nothing to do with me going or not going, but holy geez, it is always so hot there!). So. Once a month, usually on the first Tuesday because that is closest to his monthly growth mark of the 4th. And what do you know? Today we hit it spot on! Perhaps that explains why things went so well (at first).
After much negotiating and prep work (and a solid 45 minutes of effort), I got all four of us dressed, layered, and in the van. Baby Weighs isn’t far from our house, and in the past we have walked, but hello. This is February in Nebraska. We drive! I packed snack bags for HD & RL (crackers, cereal, fruit snacks, all mixed together so it takes longer to eat and I don’t have to open multiple packages) and told them they could have them once we got there (always good motivation for getting in the car and listening, at least initially). I also told them that if they followed the two (only two – c’mon! how hard can it be?!?!) rules while we were there, we could get a special lunch. Temperature Tuesday still exists at Runza in February, right? Because that’s where I wanted to get lunch today, but I wouldn’t know because the two rules were not followed. And they are simple rules!
Rule #1 – do not run up the stairs where Mama cannot see you. Baby Weighs meets in a basement room of the Home Away from Home building across from Mary Lanning; it is accessible by two sets of stairs. This also means there are two doors and sets of stairs from which my children can escape and apparently they really like to do that because we have (obviously) had this problem in the past.
Rule #2 – do not touch other people’s things. Not that they normally do, but I remember the days of going all the time and being there with just one baby and wishing other people’s big kids would leave my stuff alone, so you know, I try to extend that same courtesy to other mamas while I am there.
So today started out really, really well. We came in, found a spot to unload (RL even took her shoes off; guess she felt really at home!), and I grabbed books for the older two from the bookshelf. It was a busy place, though, so I knew we were not going to be in and out even though all I wanted was to get Lincoln’s 7 month weight and not even attempt to feed him there. While I waited in line with Little(st) Man, HD & RL got out their snacks. They weren’t running, they weren’t yelling, they weren’t touching anybody’s stuff. My mama chest was puffed with pride. And we all know what happens next when we get too proud and puffy – we deflate.
Just when I thought we were in business because Lincoln was next up on the scale (the kids usually love this part), the stairs became Public Enemy No.1. First it was HD in the doorway, looking at me and me reminding him not to leave, and then it was his sister joining him, and both of them egging each other on as they took off up the stairs. Lovely. I had to leave LT with the nurse, naked on the scale, and go get them. And tell them no lunch (which probably sounded awful to anyone who heard me say it, so I clarified and said again, “No special lunch.”). Harrison tried to appeal for a second chance but I’m in a tired, there are no three strikes mood today, so no. I explained the rules when we got there. They broke the rules. No special lunch.
The rest of our time there was sweaty and rather frantic. No one wanted to listen and I still had to get Lincoln dressed and everyone coated and hatted (and shoed, in RL’s case) before we could leave. So here I had been thinking five minutes earlier, Wow! Look at my babies! They are being so good! These other moms must be so impressed! What shining examples of angelic children! and now I was thinking Wow! Look at my babies! They are such hooligans! These other moms must be so relieved! What shining examples of real children! Or maybe the other moms were annoyed, but I don’t think my kiddos were being that obnoxious. At least not to anyone but me. But somehow I herded my
kids cats and we made it up and out together. There were no tears and no screaming (from the children or me), so I guess it all turned out OK even without the special lunch.
Except then there was the whole issue of Lincoln not gaining a single ounce in the last month (*sigh*) and the whole other issue of me overhearing another mom talking about her baby, who is one and a half weeks old, sleeping eight hours at night, and I could have just cried. I struggle so much when my babies don’t gain anything because I feel responsible. But we have small kids, so I should be used to this by now, right? And are you flipping kidding me? EIGHT HOURS?! IN A ROW?! I haven’t gotten that much straight sleep in at least three years, so the whole thing made me want to, again, cry and possibly take her out at the knees.
So what do you think? Time for brownies?