I’ve been absent the last few weeks, determined to neglect my laptop during my time off work over the holidays. By now, there are too many stories to rehash, so by way of a desire to recap, here are a handful of highlights:
- 1. As testament to the contagious enthusiasm of his vocal stylings, A sang “I am a Pizza” so many times over his McDonald’s lunch that a table of 3 adult men good-naturedly joined in on the song as we exited.
- 2. I celebrated my 1,000th Peloton ride. It’s arbitrary in the scheme of things, but was fun to mark the occasion with a few people
crazysupportive enough to set their alarms on a Saturday morning to do a 75 minute endurance live ride. - 3. J, O, and I burnt the entirety of our arcade card balances on the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle game one afternoon. It was a total nail-biter at the end with HP and credits running low, but we defeated all the bosses, triumphed over Shredder himself, and then spent our tickets on Pop Rocks and Fun Dip. I don’t normally buy myself in when we play, but I am so glad I was part of this epic victory. On the other hand, J required my help buckling his seat in the car afterwards as he was despondent — convinced that his arm was broken from all the button smashing.
- 4. A bowled his first strike! That same game, O’s slow rolling finally caught up with him and we had to ask for help when his ball managed to stall entirely two thirds down the lane. Fortunately neither boy is terribly invested in competition yet, so they both remained sportsmanly.
- 5. Our neighbors invited J and me over for a midday play date (O invited himself along) with a few other friends. The host joked that she pumps “casino air” into the basement so the boys can remain down there for hours. While they played, one of the moms remarked that between us 4, we have fourteen boys. Naturally, the couple of hours trading stories are intensely reassuring to my sense of whether my home’s state of “ambient chaos” is normal.
- 6. I sent the ping below to Dave when we were (again) spending the better part of an afternoon at the library. What can I say? I’m a woman of simple taste.
- 7. Our 2023 New Year celebration consisted of 3 memorable (& largely “on brand”) moments:
7a. We attended a NYE bash at the library, counting down to noon with crafts, music, and dancing. Visiting my elderly neighbor that evening, she had the local news playing in the background and I spotted my sons’ TV debuts.
7b. We “counted down” to what ended up being 6:53pm ET with a recording of the Sydney fireworks. We cheers’d with Propel, sparking juice, water, and champagne. Our “please be careful not to spill!” warning was effective for precisely the amount of time it took for O to excitedly take his cup, stand up off the couch, and slosh the cider over onto the fabric.
7c. A quiet moment of reflection and gratitude with Dave after the boys were asleep.
Happy new year. May 2023 bring more of what lights you up, particularly if it involves springing for an arcade card for yourself.
Closing out 2022 roasting marshmallows in matching jammies. Pretty sure this is what the kids today call “wildin’.” 
Splitting a pitcher of root beer at the bowling alley. Cheers! 
Low on design standards, but high on utilization of resources (which is to say, the boys ate all of the decor over the course of the following 48 hours) 
Wisdom a la the nearby ice cream shop (yes, we do post-dinner ice cream even in December). 
14 boys between us, and a pact to invite each other out to “girly” events if we ever get a craving. 
Not only is this a legitimate conversation, but the AI suggested responses are on point. 
Something for everyone on New Year’s Eve. 
Cowabunga, dude. 
My sweet boy and his Tugboat Fuzzy Dumptruck.
Related: more family Ninja Turtling // ride #600: 18 months and 1 baby ago.
A conversation I had at least a dozen times while trick-or-treating:
Neighborhood kid: what are you dressed up as, Ms. Kel?
Me: April O’Neil!
Neighborhood kid: …ohh… is that… is that the… girl?
Me: yes. Yes, I’m the token girl. This is my life.
Related: how *should* neighborhood kids refer to adults? // our favorite Halloween decor is still a hit even if J insists our house is “embarrassed” by the more committed neighbors in our circle…
There are few ways I prefer to spend a day than slathered up in sunscreen, basking in the sun’s warmth, and watching my kids unintentionally accrue deceptively high volumes of sand in their hair and bathing suits as they happily play. Something about the tranquility of the water, the inability to multi-task with something “productive,” the resignation to the mess as such a small price to pay for so much joy…
Some people bring books, or beach chairs, or headphones to the beach; signs of quiet stillness. Others bring coolers filled with libations, equipment for a sand volleyball game, devices to photograph those sun-kissed moments; signs of social livelihood.
For this life stage, my beach scene must-haves:
1. Snacks: Twizzlers, classic potato chips, and an ice-cold Coke, poured over a massive, brightly colored [plastic] glass of ice (thank my grandma for this one — she drank Coke like this year-round, but this image will forever remind me of warm weather and vacations with her). Food pyramid be damned; there is nothing quite like junk food snacking while spending extended periods in the water.
2. A cute beach bag, even if I’m only just stepping a few feet from our patio. I secretly coveted these Peloton Mom cult-followed Bogg Bags, and these reclaimed sail bags, but fortunately my mom intercepted me before I over-spent and made me this darling mesh-bottomed bag featuring the Lake Michigan fan favorite and state stone, the Petoskey!
3. Sun coverage for the fairest skinned of us. Long-sleeved rash shirts for the older bros (dual purpose: element protection and less time spent literally wrestling my ticklish children into many more square inches of sunscreen application) and this comically large sun hat for C. At some point it dawned on me that this hat is a bit Handmaid’s-Tale-esque, but if that’s the cost of maximum coverage… praise be.
Related: time at the pool // speaking of Peloton moms…
FIRST BORN
1st birthday falls on a Tuesday, has family birthday party the Saturday immediately preceding
Spends actual birth day with his parents
Has 1st sweets at his 1st birthday party
Is fully dressed for 1st cupcake experience
Receives a plethora of age-appropriate gifts
Has his favorite dinner: pork tenderloin and fruit
Designer candle atop smash cupcake
Celebrates his first year surrounded by people who love him
FOURTH BORN
1st birthday falls on a Saturday, has a joint family party with 2 of his brothers 1 month beforehand
Spends actual birthday in part at his grandparents as his parents + brothers attend the birthday party of friends
Has 1st sweets sometime around the 9 month mark because Dad likes to treat to doughnuts on Dad + lads days
Is stripped to diaper and bib for 1st cupcake
Receives almost nothing except token items after his parents request “no gifts” for the party
Has leftovers and bananas
Used designer candle atop smash cupcake
Celebrates his first year surrounded by people who love him… including 3 wonderful brothers
It’s easy to assume —
with three boys born before —
that when our fourth arrived at home
we’d know what was in store.
So imagine our delight
when this baby did reveal
that though he looks much like his brothers,
C has his own unique appeal.
He won’t do something standard,
like get around by crawling,
when he can rock the “booty scoot”
and do so without falling.
He isn’t much for “baby” toys
but loves the “big kid” kind;
the noisier, the better,
anything his bros have left behind.
And I’d challenge you to find
a babe more easy-going;
smiles, laughs, and happy claps
with cooing chatter that keeps flowing.
It’s true our home is action-packed,
“got your hands full!” as they say,
but our family was not complete till C,
born last year on this day.
Since I began this chapter of life not quite 8 years ago, I have spent 3 years growing babies, 3.5 years nursing babies, and 1.25 years in between during which I was a free agent (minus that whole still being legally and ethically and financially and existentially responsible for said babies).
I weaned C last week, and did so without turning into a blubbery, emotional mess — another feather in my cap of motherhood accomplishments, thankyouverymuch. But really, while the sentimentality of the moment threatened to get the best of me, I faced it with 2 strategies:
- Some good, old-fashioned repression
- A healthy dose of self-reflection and gratitude
During these many years, I gained weight. My feet grew. My breasts shrank… and grew… and then shrank even more. I lost so much hair that I once clogged a hotel shower drain after only 3 washes. I limited the types of medication I could take based on potential interactions with the baby or my milk supply. Per the number of blood draws and IVs I’ve undergone, I can say with full medical confidence that I have “tricky veins” — that it’s worth calling the expert CRNA before the floor nurses “blow out” all the traditionally comfortable places to insert an IV and someone ends up needing to change my blood-spattered towels before the action even begins. I missed meetings, and social events, and sleep to hook myself up to a breast pump, where I spent hundreds of hours isolated and with an uncomfortable resignation to feeling like an animal.
Most of all, I grew and delivered and sustained 4 babies.
For the very real and very permanent price my body has paid over these intensely high-stakes years, and for the off-the-charts positive ROI as a result of that price, I officially adopt a near-zero tolerance policy for any negative body talk. I am not (usually) one for overt and shameless self-congratulations, but this moment feels like it warrants an exception: what. a. champ.
Finally, it’s helpful to remember that this milestone is not just about me. Each time I wean, it means more opportunities for Dave to participate and enjoy the tender bedtime routine with his sons. Clearly, he is quite effective at soothing to sleep.
Related: announcing my pregnancy with C // I come back to this anytime I typo “pregnant”
4 boys, 4 anecdotes that perfectly describe their respective dominant personality traits. See if you can guess who is who: J, O, A, or C.
1: this bro innately prefers all things off-brand: Donald over Mickey, Luigi over Mario, even secondary colors like green over primary blue.
2: this bro is the “domino that won’t fall” according to his teachers. When the entirety of his class successively wakes from nap-time cranky or crying, he is – without fail – smiley and content.
3: this bro is a living study in developmental conflicts between impulse, logic, and responsibility. Immediately following losing his temper with a friend, he will be receptive to conversations around empathy for his friend, and then – completely of his own volition – run over to said friend’s house to apologize in person for his actions.
4: this bro comes home with the following note from his teacher — after a class assignment that would have been counted complete if all he had done was simply scribble a few lines using the crayon of his choice.
Answers: (1) O (2) C (3) J (4) A (of course).
What’s this?? Two hacks in quick succession? Yes, lucky readers (all 3 of you), I’m feeling particularly helpful (& opinionated) at the moment.
Hack #3: All You’ll Really Need For Your Infant Is Whatever You Have On Hand
(aka “Baby Gear Can’t Save You, but You’ll Survive Anyhow”)
Imagine my surprise when — between my first child and my last — several new mom friends recommended “must have” items that straight up did not exist when I created my baby registry just 6 years ago. Could technology really move so fast as to substantially improve one’s ability to weather the “4th trimester” in the span of just 6 years?
Two such items I used and liked:
- The Haakaa: a silicone breast pump that exists solely to catch the “let down” on the breast opposite the one you’re using to feed Baby (amazing and depressing to see how much would go to waste otherwise).
- The Spectra breast pump: as comfortable as any pump can be, I imagine, but infinitely quieter than the model I started using in 2015. (Breast pumps now covered by insurance! Thanks, Obama.)
Every other “must have,” however, didn’t inspire me to purchase.
Case in point: the Snoo. This is a ~$1500 bassinet. It has a number of features designed to help soothe Baby back to sleep during the night. Do you know how much I would have paid for something that claimed to help my baby sleep when I was a first time mom? Any. All of it. All the money.
But this brings me to my hack: whatever you have on-hand for your infant is what you’ll get used to, and that’s all that you’ll need. Which is to say: the volume of things baby stores claim you should register for… is a total racket. I just did a quick check of the Buy Buy Baby suggested checklist and only marked 50% of these items as things I actually used/needed for any of my 4 children. No judgment of any one item… though a fair amount of confusion about why a baby food maker is a separate product from a kitchen’s existing blender, or why anyone wants to keep a diaper pail in their room vs just regularly taking the stinky diapers to the outside bin, or why Mom and Dad need separate diaper bags (because the only way to worsen the process of monitoring diaper bag contents would be to have to do it twice). Just saying, by the numbers and for my own kids, half of these items were absolutely non-essential and we never missed having them.
Using the Snoo as our case study, I’ve seen a number of online forums praising it, showcasing the app with long sleep stretches for baby as of the 6-8 week mark. To feel like reliable sleep in >90 minute increments is around the corner — it’s a glorious thing, I know. But I’m pretty sure that a baby can sleep through the night — at least metabolically speaking — once they’re > 12 lbs. I would venture to say many (most?) babies start giving longer sleep stretches right around 6 – 8 weeks. I’ll definitely vouch for my own kids, who have all been able to sleep reliably long stretches by the 8 week mark in their $75 pack ‘n play/bassinet combo. So while the Snoo may be a great piece of tech, I can’t help but feel like it’s preying on new parents by taking partial credit for a mix of Baby’s biological development and the fact that parents are more willing to let a baby practice self-soothing (read: fuss for longer before hauling one’s exhausted body out of bed… again…) 1.5+ months into the sleep deprivation gig.
Just to be clear: I have no issue with people shelling out for high quality products for their babies if means allow… smoother strollers, prettier bouncers, certainly smart bassinets. If we were having our first today, with 6 extra years of earning power than when we were first expecting, we might be inclined to do the same. And goodness knows we feel justified in the places we splurged now that we’ve gotten 4 kids worth of mileage out of these things. But I can almost feel the cliche “back in my day we didn’t have these newfangled things and our kids turned out fine!” phrases coming out of my mouth before I have to laugh that “back in my day” practices were as recently as O’s infancy, 3 years ago.
The truth is that the transition to parenthood is incredibly challenging. The gear associated with this stage, however, has very little to do with that fact, so it’s not worth sweating about being properly stocked as new parents inevitably (and unavoidably) figure out so much on the fly and establish a system as they go using what they have on-hand.
A moment of humility: we had to use our pack ‘n play up north recently and left it there, borrowing our friends’ swanky Halo bassinet to keep at home for a few weeks. This thing swivels, vibrates, plays music, makes toast (maybe; we’ve never actually turned it on). It’s beautiful and worked great until C got heavy enough and fidgety enough that he started shifting his body weight into “corners” of the peanut-shaped contraption. He’d wake up prematurely, not yet hungry but actively irritated to be cramped against the mesh lining. In case you haven’t already picked up on this, I consider waking up to a hungry infant a worthy cause to forgo sleep, but almost anything else is unacceptable. The swanky bassinet had to go.
C, 7 weeks old, slept much of the past week like this:
And just for the record, he clocked 9 hours last night.
