6 Weeks

"Beep, Beep, Beep!" honks the Chevy Silverado.

"I didn't even know this town had a volcano!" says Tommy's Father, running out the door to his truck while simultaneously putting on his jacket, his wife running after him in her bathrobe, holding out a coffee and muffin.

--From The Chevy Silverado Super Bowl Commercial

Now, obviously this is a rip off of Lassie, which is in part why it so funny. And the very absurdity of the father's lines are great: "How'd you get trapped in the belly of a whale?" for instance. And if you watch more closely, the details make it all the better: when the truck comes honking onto the scene, the father is doing things like making card towers and carving wood sculptures, you know, exactly what all us parents are doing while our very young children are off flying hot air balloons. But I have to admit, as a parent of a child with severe speech delay, this is EXACTLY how I feel sometimes. Just today, while I was relaxing next to the warm fire, being pampered by expert beauticians and massage therapists while slowly sipping a latte that was actually still hot (ok, so that is a far cry from the dishes, sweeping and lunch prep I was actually doing but hey, we can dream right?) Liam came running up ("Beep, beep, beep") doing his version of the hand signals that must have taken place between Squanto and the pilgrims. I quickly figured out that he wanted me to turn the kitchen lights on so that he could eat some lunch (What? Tommy has been eaten by a giant squid and was barfed back up on the island of Capri only to be captured by hippie pirates who have handed him over to purple grotesque aliens from outer space?) And that is when I realized, Kurt and I would probably be really good at charades!

At any rate, having had my 6-week post natal check-up recently, it struck me that Solomon has been here for over 6 weeks. And before I move on, I have to say how much I love doctors... although my OB said she thinks I do pregnancy, labor and delivery very well (ah shucks, thanks) and would not mind doctoring me through another (quite a sales pitch, really), she wanted to know what I would be doing to prevent another baby until we so chose to have one. (Insert spontaneous neurotic laughter.) Now, my brother told me I should have responded with "What?! I can prevent this?" (I didn't even know this town had a volcano!) but the only thing I said was that while I'd love to single-handedly keep her in business, we really had no intention of becoming the next Duggar Family and I am pretty certain we are done at 5! After all, it is one thing to explain the unintentional fifth child...a bit tougher to explain the unintentional 5th AND 6th! (Yet not quite like explaining the fully intentional 19th!)

Anyway, a lot happens in six weeks. Solomon went from taking life far too seriously, keeping a slight scowl close at hand in case anyone spoke to him, to blessing us with smiles and the hope that he might actually enjoy our company as much as we do his. Liam went from a weepy, jealous filled toddler to a once again happy baby-diaper-change-helper whose new set of speech therapists have attributed some of his speech delay to how smiley he is (try talking through a great big smile....it's tough. Apparently his mouth muscles are too retracted and they are working on neutralizing them so he can better form sounds. BEEP BEEP!) We hosted a month's worth of laundry-washing-house-guests (and my laundry room has suffered ever since their departure). We participated in a Pinewood Derby (a Boy Scout thing) and then we watched our football team come in SECOND PLACE in the Super Bowl (hey, if the news people can spin things how they want, why can't I?) We celebrated two birthdays: Liam's (now 3 and very much a big brother, or at least bigger than the baby....for the time being) and Aidan's (why I thought a sleep over with five 7-8 year old boys would be less stressful than hosting a 2-hour birthday party is beyond me but his eighth birthday was definitely one to remember...if not just because Kurt allowed him to wrestle with his friend who happens to be the 5th of six children of a family that lives on an animal farm...same kid who gave Aidan a rather sharp pocket knife for his birthday....hmmm, who'd you put your money on? Needless-to-say, Kurt escorted a crying and red-faced Aidan into the kitchen looking for Tylenol after Aidan had been face planted in the basement....Kurt wondered if he might have a concussion....good times.) And finally, we taught the girls that Louis Armstrong is NOT one of the Beatles as they had begun to believe; the CDs just happen to be back to back in the car changer.

So, it has been a fun filled six weeks and we look forward to many more! (Weeks that is, not babies!)


  1. Happy 6-weeksth birthday.

    Just read your account of the blood bath. How come the kids never run to Dad when these things happen?

  2. Well, in my house, I think it is b/c they know dad is just going to come get me so why not cut out the middle man? They are Protestant children through and through, hee hee.


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