A House Full of Laughter

Yesterday, Leifer giggled and my heart burst open! There is nothing I love to hear more than the blissful, belly laughs of a wee baby because you know that the only thing that lies behind them is sheer joy and contentment. 

Leif, we had been downstairs in the basement switching a load of laundry, and I had just carried you upstairs lying on top of the laundry basket. You were thrilled! You smiled at me the entire time. As I set you and the laundry basket on my bed, I could not break away from your loving gaze. Your smile makes me smile. I continued to talk nonsense to you as I always do and your smile grew larger and larger. I couldn't take it any longer. Your cuteness factor had just blown the charts and I was overcome with a deep desire to squeeze the stuffing out of you. I bent down and nuzzled your chin with my nose:

I could just eat you up . . .

And then you did it. Your smile cracked open the vault and out came the sweetest giggle I have ever heard. Your 11 pound body jiggled with excitement as I looked down at you in shock.

Your first laugh and you shared it me with!

It was the best early birthday present a mom could ever ask for. Thank you, Leif, for bringing so much joy into my life.

Speaking of joy and birthdays, on this day ten years ago, my other baby boy, Avery, was born. 

Avery, you are a handful. You have limitless amounts of energy. I marvel at how you can come home from playing an entire morning of soccer and still spend the rest of the day jumping and bouncing your way around the house. You have earned the title of House Comedian and as much as I try not to laugh at your antics, there are times when I can not hold it in. Like the other day, when Zoe's friends were over for supper and you, never missing an opportunity to entertain, put on a one-man comedy show. You danced, you drank pop through your nose, and you tormented (and probably terrified) the newbie who your sister may or may not have a wee bit of a crush on. As much as I wanted to be the adult in the room and reprimand you for all the times you crossed the line, I couldn't. You were just too darn funny! And then, when all the big kids were going out the door with dad following behind to drive them to the movies, you hollered:

Hey, Boy, good luck! You're gonna need it . . .

I thought I was going to pee my pants!

Avery, I love you with all my heart. Thank you for bringing so much laughter into  my life.

Avery and his young protege. Heaven help me!

I am one lucky lady to have all these handsome, smiling boys in  my life.

My Little Leifer

Homeschool lessons!

The other day I read Our Journey to Here for the first time since my little Leifer was born. It struck me how scared I was and how reluctant I was to get my hopes up. It seems funny now with Leif  so neatly tucked into our life that I could have ever been so anxious or fearful. I am grateful that those days are behind us, and I am beyond grateful that we were granted our happy ending after all. 

Leif, you are a tremendous blessing! Yes, you have wreaked havoc upon our life. Many days I fear our house may be swallowed up by the mountains of dirty laundry I can never manage to get caught up on, or that my brain will eventually disintegrate thanks to a scarcity of sleep, or that I may never fit into my jeans again. In spite of how challenging our days have become, I never tire of seeing your smiling face. I never tire of holding you close when you are crying from all your tummy troubles. I never tire of waking up at 3, at 5 and then at 7 to find you groggily reaching out to me and searching for a boob. I am okay with the fact that right now you are totally using me for my body. I love you Leif, and if there is one thing that I have learned from all those years I waited to hold you it is that as hard as a moment may seem it is only but a moment. In the flash of an eye it will be over, and to tell you the truth, I am not ready for this to be over. No matter how much laundry I have to do, or how tired I am, or how flabby my belly is, I am not ready to say goodbye to these moments; therefore, I hold onto them, I treasure them and I enjoy them. The laundry will eventually get done, I will eventually get a full night's sleep again and, okay let's be honest, my tummy will never be flat again, but you will not always be 11 pounds 6oz . You will not always sleep beside me and you will not always need me as much as you do right now. And so my little Leifer, for now, I will continue to kiss your cheeks off, to squeeze the stuffing out of you every chance I get, and to whisper I love you about a million times a day just because I can.

There is nothing cuter than baby toys strewn across your bed!

Okay . . .  this definitely may be cuter . . .

Leif, you were definitely worth the wait!

Life as a Thing 4

Being the fourth baby has some definite advantages. According to dad, mom is way more relaxed with me than she was with the other three. I find this hard to believe because if you know my mom, she is anything but relaxed. I think the word is a high-strung. Am I right? Not to mention by the time I am in my teens both of my parents will be in their fifties. Yep, factor in their age and the fact that they will have just survived (hopefully!) both of my brothers' teenagehood, they should be good and worn-out. Again, am I right? 

Anyhoo . . .

As awesome as these  points are, the best part about being number four is there is never a shortage of arms to hold you or people to sleep on:

But, since we like to keep it real here at Shenanigans Inc, I must confess there are some definite disadvantages to being number four as well, and I think the next photos sum this up quite nicely:

Yep, those would be my jeans on my head and my socks on my hands . . .  ugh! 

Don't worry I am plotting my revenge as we speak, and my mom, who albeit had nothing to do with this ensemble but did insist upon taking a photo of it, will pay as well . . . muhahahahahahaha! If only I could figure out how to operate these legs and arms . . . .

Signing off,

Thing 4, Leif Webster

Baby of Anarchy

Dear Grampy Skov-Nielsen,

I love the Harley Davidson outfit you bought for me this Christmas! I have to admit, I look pretty cool in it.

But how am I ever going to be taken seriously when people make me wear cutesy tootsy hats like this one? Sure it has the Harley logo on it, but with these chubby cheeks and simpleton, newborn expressions, I need all the help I can get to command a little respect. 

I am Leif Webster! I am named after a viking for goodness sakes! I am one tough, little dude.

And I have totally mastered giving people the stink eye . . . grrrrrr!

So, although I really appreciated this gift, next year for Christmas I want the real thing. I want a hog of my own. Babies of Anarchy: it could totally work!  Thanks, gramps. I knew you would understand.

Love,

Leif (aka Thing 4)

Ugh! With a mother like mine, a Harley is my only hope.