2008 February 06 | slackermama . com

All this time, I think we’ve been rather deluded. It has appeared that Harry was a daddy’s boy when in all actuality, I think he’s bipartisan. Shoot, even if you ask him point blank which parent he prefers he will insist with his dying breath that he loves us both the same. My son, it would appear, is nothing if not diplomatic. He loves to help his father out with projects, with making dinner, playing video games together. He loves to snuggle with me, watch movies, and so forth. Kile noted to me last night that when Harry needs comfort, he always comes to me. I said that it was probably because often it was because Kile was busting his chops for something or another (kidding!). Kile said that when he sticks up for Harry when I get after him, that Harry doesn’t come to him for comfort. I guess I should feel honored, huh? And I am, I’m glad that he has something that he relates to with me.

Liam, on the other hand, has redefined the term “daddy’s boy”. And I don’t doubt for a minute that Liam loves me. I know he does. I’ve been here virtually every day since the day he was born, taking care of him and kissing his owies (of which there are many these days, it would seem). But when it comes to Kile? Well, that’s a different animal altogether.

I caught Liam gazing up into Kile’s face the other night. He was sitting on Kile’s lap drinking a sippy cup full of milk and Kile was watching something on the television. And the look in Liam’s eyes, the absolute adoration, took my breath away. And when Kile comes home from work in the evening, it’s hard to say who beats a quicker path towards him, Liam or the dogs (who really make shameful hussies out of themselves). And Liam will not be happy until Kile has scooped him up and greeted him properly. Also, to this day, there is no one that Liam will sit quietly with for hours at a time other than Kile. He will quite contentedly sit on Kile’s lap, sippy cup in hand, covered with a blanket and watch a full two hour movie with him. I’ve seen him do it countless times. Me? He’ll sit on my lap for 5, maybe 10 minutes at the most. Then he’s off to explore his next greatest adventure. Kile puts him to bed at night, as that is what Liam prefers. I will sometimes join them, but Liam could literally care less if I am there or not. He loves for Kile to read him his stories, give him his fluoride drops, tuck him in with his favorite Piglet stuffed animal. Kile also gives him his baths. I serve as “support staff” for these baths, catch a wet baby in a warm, hooded towel, re-diapering and clothing in clean jammies. But it’s Kile who has to do the actual bathing. It’s Kile’s hands he trusts to pour the water over his head and soap up all his parts.

I’m not jealous, at least, not much. Moreso, I’m tickled at the bond between them. I can’t wait to watch it flourish over the years to come. And, I can’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, Evie will be a mama’s girl.

Get the word out:

While the doctor hasn’t ordered bed rest or anything like that, I know enough about this whole pregnancy business to know that I need to be taking it easier. Feet up and drinking water as much as possible. When I take it easy, quite simply, I feel better. That tells me it’s the right thing to do. Shoot, just getting up to fix lunches makes me cramp and ache. Not in an alarming manner, as it does get better when I sit back down. But I’m no masochist here and I’ve got just six weeks left of this nonsense so I best just play it safe.

Of COURSE, though, I’m getting major nesting urges. Why is it that I only feel the urge to get stuff done once I can’t really do it anymore? I look around the living room here and see toys piled up in the corners. I see throw pillows tossed on the floor, the vacuum cleaner sitting out (taunting me, I’m sure), some mysterious scraps of paper littered around the coffee table and dust coating the Xbox. It is driving me insane.

And that’s just the living room! I suppose I should be glad I can’t see the kitchen from here because I know the sink is piled with dishes. I literally am having to stop myself from jumping up, washing dishes, scrubbing the counters and shining the stove. Oh, and cleaning off the kitchen table. Perhaps sweeping the floor too. Oh yes, definitely need to sweep the floor.

Then there’s the laundry room. I know for a fact the floor of the laundry room is coated with clothes that have been taken out of the dryer and discarded. So while they’re “clean”, I don’t think they’re really *clean*. Could definitely use another wash, and then be put away.

And while I’m at that, I need to put away the clean clothes that are piled in laundry baskets at the foot of my bed in my room. There’s also a pile of sheets that need to go in the wash. Basically, my bedroom is a mess. The thing is, if we’re going to be getting this new bed in a week or so, it’s going to need to be cleaned up and cleaned out. And here I sit, watching “Blue’s Clues” and not doing a darn thing about it. That’s driving me INSANE.

I hear Harry getting up upstairs, slamming doors as he gets dressed and uses the bathroom and muttering to himself. It reminds me that his room needs serious attention. We need to do some major furniture rearranging in there, not to mention a good cleaning. Once it’s cleaned and rearranged, then we can set up Liam’s crib in there. Which reminds me that we need to get another crib mattress for the second crib and get a few parts so we can put it together. Then of course we need to actually move Liam in there, which is a daunting sort of task if you ask me.

But once Liam is moved into Harry’s room, then I can give the baby’s room some attention. Which, to be honest, is what I really want to do. We have wallpaper border to put up and I would like to paint the walls. In our dreams, we’d put up wainscoting and hardwood floors (I know I’ve mentioned this before), but I’d be content with the paint and wallpaper border. Then I could set up her crib with the new bedding we got and perhaps even find a curtain rod to put up the matching valance with. I’d like to get my hands on some letters for her name to hang up too.

GAH. There’s a lot of work to be done. Six weeks to do it in. And here I am, just shy of completely useless. TORTURE.

Get the word out: