Somewhere in the hustle of coming home last week, Ben and I were conversing about how we were going to navigate all the hubbub (read: chaos) of four excited siblings around the new baby and I told him I really didn’t want us to be yelling at them constantly. But how does one approach Bigs without constantly hollering at them to be quiet (ha – there’s a fun oxymoron/paradox of parenting, eh?).
Somehow B came up with the idea to hush them by saying, “Shhh! Baby!” and oh my word…in a handful of days we’ve already said it enough times that the kids are now saying it to each other and it truly has become a reflex response from both of us when any of them are being loud. Side note: how is Lincoln, my still in 20th percentile for size kid,SO loud? I know those outside our walls may not believe me because he tends to be so quiet elsewhere, but oh.my.word! SO loud!!
The irony of our shushing? Wilson actually seems to be quite comforted by the noisiness of our house and doesn’t care at all that her brothers and sister are literally bouncing off the furniture while hooting and hollering around her. In fact, on our first full Day One at home, everyone bailed from the dining room after breakfast, leaving her snoozing in her Rock-n-Play, and it wasn’t until it was totally quiet that she got mad enough to squawk about the happenings around her.
Clearly she loves her people and it’s safe to say the feeling is mutual.
How do we know? The number of fights logged thus far over who gets to hold the baby. This started within, oh, maybe 20 minutes of all seven of us being in the house together and has continued through every offered Sibling Hold Fest. They call (read: scream) “dibs!” and race each other to the couch and Boppy and basically refuse to give up their turn until we force them to do so. It’s both (slightly) irritating and (most definitely) the cutest thing ever. The only one who doesn’t get super worked up is Harrison, as he knows that his stay-up-late time is his hold-the-baby time while we read together before bed.
They are all just so darn proud when they hold her, too. I mean, for cute – look at Truman’s face from that first afternoon! He is suuuuuch a natural with her and totally enamored, too, as evidenced by his softly patting hands and his wiggling, happy feet the whole time he first got his arms on her (and every time since).
And if Wilson so much as cries for a split second, at least one, if not all four, of them is asking where her paci is, or telling us that her hat came off, or alerting us to the fact that she needs us; so fear not, Willa – you have a whole crew of watchers keeping an eye and ear out for you!
Which leads to one more story. Remember the whole designation of the nickname Willa? Because I love the name and I didn’t want them trying to call the baby Willy? Well, the biggest Bigs were complaining to me while we were still in Omaha that people were calling her Willa instead of Wilson, making it quite clear by accusational tones of voice what they thought of that (HD has since at least tried to slip “Willa” into conversation, but I’m still not sure he’s down with it), so so much for best laid plans, eh? And sure enough, they STILL managed to catch me off guard when tonight after super, Raegan suddenly referred to the baby as Wilsy and asked, “Pleeeeeease! Please can we call her Wilsy????”
Lord, give me strength-y.