He’s. Coughing.

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brokeglasssmoke

I’m starting today with a laugh. As a mom of four wild boys, you learn to pick your battles. If it’s broken, bleeding, or on fire, you know it’s fight time.

You also learn when to worry and when to not worry.
And you learn to sleep when you can. Wherever you can. However you can.

Which brings me to this…

It was a long night. One of the longest of my life.

I take that back. It’s been a long two weeks. It’s been an even longer winter – but I’ll save that for another post.

It started with the stomach bug. And progressed to a cold. Then a cough. Then slight fevers. Then a call from the wild boys’ dad that two had double ear infections and one had “near pneumonia.” Then a frantic trip to the doc after a 5 a.m. wake up and 102 fever with my bigger ginger baby.

Then Marshall started hurling again to celebrate his 2 month birthday.

And he began to cough. Just a little dry hack. Infrequent at first. No alarming whistling, no high fever, no loss of appetite. Yet.

But in a heart baby, any sign of sickness (however slight) makes a mama want to hit the panic switch.

Or kick herself for that one (or hundredth) time one of the boys may have sneezed in the same room as Marshall. A quick email to our great doc in Boston reassured me there was little more I could do to keep Marshall as well as he could be. So I’ll have to withhold the kicking myself.

For now.

And wait.
And watch.

And try harder to not worry.

Which explains last nights’ sleeplessness. The baby slept pretty o.k. for him and only awoke twice.

I, however, did not sleep well. At. All.

So please if you’ve got a good, strong, ridiculously healthy thought to share, please extend it to our little miracle. And the wild boys. And anyone else who needs one on this gray Monday…

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“She promised me a puppy…wait, TWO puppies…and a pony…annnddd a trip to Hawaii…”

And all she got (so far) was a silly shirt!

…though she is working on the rest…

8 Weeks Today…HOORAY!!!

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Marshall is eight weeks old today. He’s still my hero…all 4.03kgs of him.
All questioning eyes, too:

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Yes, sweet baby, I really had to take your picture today :-).

His brothers are my heroes as well.
Where I would be without the four of them is a place I don’t care to go to. Or think about.

Sooo, in honor of them and today, I have small news and a confession to make.

Truth be told, since the minute each wild boy was born, I searched them for something…just anything…that resembled me. In the slightest of ways. With the big wild boys it was easy. And nearly instant.

Upon first glance I saw my eyes, my hair, my chin, my hands…

With Marshall it was much, much different. I searched for hours when I first held him. I searched for days. I searched for weeks.

And weeks.
And weeks.

I came up with nothing.

Nada. Zero. Zilch.

Then yesterday I FOUND IT!!!!

Fresh from the “hurry before the baby cries” super shower, and between dirty diapers, gas bubbles, feedings, laundry, medication, meals, bills, and all of the things which turn a 20 minute process into half day long ordeal, I was hastily applying my warpaint. [Most women call it makeup but in a house with this much testosterone and sleeplessness, it’s a war to convince myself to rock my femininity at times ;-)!]

Needless, one “EUREKA I FOUND IT!” moment later, as fast as a quick swipe of mascara allows, I realized that Marshall has my eyelashes. And likely (perhaps) my head shape…the jury is out on this one.

But that’s it.

Everything else seems to have been claimed by his dad in the great DNA war.

That is, unless you count the tenacious fighting spirit the kid has.

Knowing what I know now, I’d dare to say he got that from both of us…but more from me (wink wink)!

Regardless of who the wild boys look like, I’m so incredibly thankful that they are here. That they are these brilliant, adorable, sometimes wild, but always fine young men. And I’m blown away everyday that I have the honor of being their mama <3.