Photo: Oh, we kicked it way old-school with the parenting on Sunday. It was hot and my husband and I were sittin’ in the shade. Major was like, “can we play with the hose?” And we looked at each other and said yes! Twenty minutes of spraying and nonsense ensued. They played with that thing all day (with breaks, you know…)! It was wonderful. I’m sure that my water bill will be through the roof… but it was an easy day with happy little boys. Final cost depending, it will probably have been worth it. 😉
I’m going to have to start out this post with a little bit of truth:
It’s inappropriately hot.
Oh, don’t you even do it. Don’t you laugh at me! Don’t you snicker and stuff and roll your eyes. I see you!
“Kyra, are you for serious? Didn’t the snow just fully melt in Boston? Aren’t you the first person to complain about the winter?”
I am. I really am.
But I’ve gotten used to a life of a cool 65 degrees at all times. 62 at night time. Spring and Autumn no-heat times can see the house get down into the mid-50s at night. Good sleepin’ temperature, ya’ll!
But this… this 90s nonsense… this Southern weather… I can’t handle it anymore. I was built for this, but I’m not used to it, and it shows. I’m sweating and gross and the house is hot and we’re all hella cranky.
So there. And yes, my first post complaining about the winter will come promptly around the first week of November. So there!
huh? In-laws? The visit?
Well, actually, it wasn’t wholly unpleasant. The boys played pretty well, The Husband and his brother stayed with the children while my sister-in-law and I hung out in the house with the new baby. I’ve nick-named him The Count because his existence messes up the even count of children among the two families, and also makes sleeping arrangements down at my in-laws’ house in Maryland more complicated. “Ya’ll done messed up the count now! No more Christmas overlap!” Everybody shrugged and giggled.
They’re already talking about their fourth.
I think they are nutso.
We ate well–I baked Hawaiian rolls and made a pulled pork that slow-cooked on the grill that was awesome. We ordered bon chon chicken for dinner and watched a bad movie after the children were put to bed. Sunday morning was pancakes, waffles and bacon. Next thing I knew, they were headed back to Connecticut and we were left with a messy, hot house with a lot to do to recover.
My husband, thinking that I was annoyed to host, thanked me a bunch of times for allowing the craziness for the weekend. I told him, in all seriousness, that hosting those two is actually an easy thing. Everybody is speaking the same language, we’re all sharing an experience, it feels like we’re all in it together. When we add his parents to the mix, it gets uncomfortable. Because now there are all these relationship dynamics that we need to be aware of and deal with. But when all adults are in the same life space, the children are running around happy, there is good zone parenting going on, and everyone is free to have a beer without a reproachful eye… hey, you know what? I can deal with it.
My chief worry when we have these get-togethers is that my husband sometimes comes away feeling a bit jealous. My brother-in-law, three years behind us, is a graduate of HBS and now works for a financial firm. He makes money. He never tells the exact number but, he wants you to know that he makes money. So when they rolled up our driveway with their brand new hot SUV and he rolls in with a baby in one hand and a bottle of Hennessy Black in the other…. it’s hard not to feel a touch of something.
But then you hear the stories. About the long work hours and the crazy bosses and the ego-centric people and the brutal work culture… and the drunken nights at various events with “bottle service” with grown folk getting sloppy-drunk in public places… Listening to my brother-in-law talking about how he got blackout-drunk somewhere and how his wife had to put the three kids in the car so as to come pick him up?
Blech. You know?
All that glitters isn’t gold.
We talked about that, sitting in the shade yesterday after our guests departed. “We got a good thing going here, you know…” I ventured, knitting away at my blanket.
“I know, dear. Really, I promise, I don’t want that life. I wish our finances were better, but we’re getting there…”
It was a reassuring thing to hear.
And little boys? They could not have had a better weekend. They think that their uncle is cool peoples. He’s a big man and strong, so he was lifting children and swinging them around, throwing balls and riding bikes. He even wears sunglasses and Major thinks that’s the coolest thing, so he ran around wearing them whenever he could. They have understanding playmates in their cousins, and they get along as well as they can for their ages. There was sharing and not sharing, screaming and yelling, running and falling, even a few scrapes and bruises (for boys and men!). We two moms had a relatively easy go of it, playing with the littlest child (only 4 months and too adorable) and watching television. Ahhh… sometimes it’s good to have an all-boy brood.
The week begins and we’re at it again. Playdates here, appointments there. Even a little jab from my mother: “You played with that little one all weekend and didn’t feel even a little bit like you wanted to have a third? Maybe?”
Ok… maybe. But it ain’t gonna happen. A third baby means a change in infrastructure around here, and that’s expensive.
I’m off to knit now. I hope to have my blanket in the mail by Friday. Will I write a word of fiction between now and then also? I can only hope! I am so woefully behind.
Wish me luck, Dear Reader! Let’s both have a productive week.