Hi, I'm Ror, and I'm Addicted to Bottles.
I have so much to tell, but I can’t remember any of it because I am suffering from NIA—nursing-induced amnesia. This child is sucking my brain out through my breasts.
Well, the kids finally had their “kid party”, long after their actual birthdays, so they’re totally confused. Connor kept saying, “Wow. I can’t believe I’m six already. It went by so fast…” We kept telling him, “You’re still five. Same birthday, different party.” They got to play with their cousins, and both boys worship their cousin Joshua because he’s a “big boy.” It’s so useful. I’ve made the wildest claims about my nephew to bribe my sons—I’ve asserted that he does everything from wash his hair every night without a fuss (hoping the kids don’t notice that he doesn’t really HAVE hair; he has a buzz cut) to eating his vegetables before even THINKING of asking for a cookie. So, in our house, WWJD now means, “What would Joshua do?”
Easter has come and gone, and the kids are detoxing from quite a candy high. Their friend Jillian spent the weekend (she’s Katie’s goddaughter), so they all had a ball looking for eggs and comparing Easter presents. We made resurrection cookies, which turned out more like resurrection lumps of goo. I tried to give it a religious bent—“See? Goo! Because when we realize that Jesus loves us so much, it makes us feel warm and GOOEY. This goo represents how we feel inside about Jesus.” Not surprisingly, they didn’t buy it. So, tip of the day: before attempting a really special, spiritually significant holiday culinary project, do a test run first, or you could end up with Resurrection Goo.
Ror has joined boppy-holics anonymous, and he’s been sober for six days. And geez, it is ROUGH. Six days with no boppy. Let me just say, the “Joshua doesn’t use boppies” line was not cutting it at 11pm when he was screaming, “GIVE ME MY BOPPY NOW!” And in the morning, our banter goes a little something like this:
Ror: I want a boppy.
Mom: No.
R: I said I want a boppy.
M: No.
R: I’m having a boppy, so deal.
M: You’re a big boy now. You don’t need boppies.
R: Yes I do. Get me a boppy.
M: I know this is hard. Do you need a hug?
R: No, I NEED A BOPPY.
M: I’m sorry, sweetie. No boppy.
R: SHAME ON YOU!
M: I’m sorry you feel that way, Ror.
R: Where’s Daddy? He will say, “Yes, Rory-boy, have a boppy! AND a cookie!”
M: Are you on crack? No he won’t!
R: Get my Daddy.
[Enter Chris.]
R: I want a boppy.
D: You’re a big boy. You don’t need a boppy.
Every day, though, it gets a little easier. One day at a time.
Easter pictures will be posted tonight! :)
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