Alcohol: it's the only thing that makes you forget how you got yourself into this mess in the first place, and helps dull the newly arrived and extreme pain in previously-unidentified muscles, apparently resulting from the improper carriage of a baby while trying to convince her that sleep is not a fatal condition. Which is done through much punching of pillows. And crying.
The only reason that I'm relatively certain that we will all survive this period just turned five years old last week. And I didn't even blog about it. In my defense, I was probably crying.
Happy Belated Birthday, Finny! I promise, your sister won't always cry and will eventually sleep. And then she'll wake up and steal your toys. Sorry about that.
As truly awesome as he is and as much as I miss him even now that I'm tying this and he's sleeping upstairs (must be the beer), having a five year old is tough for me. Sure, he's become extremely polite - a fact that he pointed out to me yesterday as he was clearing his plate, immediately before asking me to find him videos of Legos on YouTube. But he's also way smarter and getting more mature every day.
This is a problem for me, because he now totally gets it when I'm teasing him, and he's decided that he doesn't like it. Unfortunately, I only know how to relate to other people through making fun of them. And pulling their hair. For my son, I'm going to need to try to keep the hair pulling and teasing to a minimum. I'm going to have to grow up. Because he's growing up - faster every day, it seems.
This is going to be hard, but I can do it, because I owe it Finn and because it's time to start treating him like the big kid that he is. The past five years have gone so fast and I want to make sure that every day from here on out counts. Pretty soon Finn is going to be ten and Edie is going to be five, and that's kind of freaky. It's going to happen before I know it.
Definitely going to need more beer.