Back up and running

Hello friends and family!!  It's been a tad busy over here, hence the lack of any updates.  So without further ado...

Michael (a.k.a. The Fat One) is large and in charge, weighing in at over 17 pounds (90th percentile, thank you very much). Fat and happy as can be. TFO is fascinated by his big brothers, who are less than fascinated by him. "He doesn't have teeth, mommy," they keep reminding me (apparently the day he grows teeth he'll be worthy of their attention). Every once and a while one of the big boys will show him some lovin', but he usually gets ignored. His big brothers are just too busy playing and too involved in destroying my house, trying to kill each other, flushing plastic people down the toilet, chanting the words "diarhea" and "penis" over and over and over and over again in their own lives to worry a whole lot about Michael.

Big Mike today.

1 week old.  Nice, fluffy hair.

TFO's been a great baby. When I'm chasing the big boys around outside, Michael's perfectly content to ride along on my back.  (To all of my pregnant friends: buy the ErgoBaby carrier NOW).  And when we're inside, he's pretty happy just watching the crazies in action. We've only had three real issues with TFO. First, his need for attention at 3 a.m. He's a terrible sleeper. And in that respect, it's been a long first five months. Second, something is terribly wrong with his hair. At birth, he had thick, beautiful hair. The recent metamorphosis of his hair into something Trump-esque on top and bald in the back is a bit disturbing. Third, he only poops about once every 10 days at best. And let me tell you something. There is no outfit (let alone a diaper) on this earth that can contain the volume of poop that comes out of a child who hasn't pooped in two weeks.  Last explosion happened while I was nursing him, at the gym.  I'll just stop right there, because I don't ever want to relive those moments. 

The big boys are great. They are about to graduate from their 3-year-old preschool class, which terrifies me because it means the summer is here, and SCHOOL IS OUT. Last summer (I was newly pregnant and potty training)  (the boys, not myself) nearly did me in. Age 3 to 3.5 was rough.  But when the boys turned about 3.5, they suddenly became so much more mature. OK, so I use the word "mature" extremely, extremely loosely, but let's just say that poop painting appears to be a thing of the past.  The boys are best buds, and the best thing about multiples is that your kids have constant playmates and (for better or worse) partners-in-crime.

Before I sign off, a quick shout-out and thank you so very much to all who supported our March of Dimes team this year.  We exceeded our goal and raised over $1100! 

At the 2011 March for Babies, showing off their signs on Ambassador Row.

Thanks for checking in.  Now that I've done an official update, I'm back on the blog wagon.  Will start reporting again regularly on the delights and chaos of living in a zoo raising 4 under 4.