My Husband and I have four kids. They’re a well-balanced mix between the perfect suns in my universe and soul-sucking heathens. But, they’re mine and I love and treasure them. AND, when their lives burst forth from my loins, I earned the right to make fun of them on my blog whenever I want. Oh, and it totally weirds My Husband out to use their names online. So, they have cybernames. I’m THAT mom, I guess.
G is eight. The first time I saw him, the world around me went blurry and all that existed in that moment was he and I. From the first few weeks of his life, he’s been needy, grumpy and extremely difficult to figure out. He was diagnosed with autism when he was four. Each day brings new challenges for him. He knows he has autism and he knows that makes him act or react differently at times. He also knows that we love him exactly the way he is and any strides he makes to crossover from atypical to typical should be his choice and not about what anyone else thinks he should do. He loves building things out of any and all available materials that things could be built from, growing and nurturing his garden, riding his bike, his pet rats, trailers and hitches and math is his JAM. He has a huge heart for animals and babies and I have a huge heart for him.
B is the lone girl in the bunch. She’s 6 years old and tough as nails yet soft as a pile of down. Her heart is easily broken, but no one will EVER walk on her. She likes to paint her nails, ride her bike, draw, write, read, do her hair, Hello Kitty and chips and salsa. She’s been know to threaten to shank her 3 brothers (which I’m not exactly sure of the meaning of this act of torture) and still sleeps with her blankie. She’s Annie Oakley in Shirley Temple’s body and I can’t wait until she grows up and becomes my best friend.
When you’re the 3rd child, your older brother has impulse control issues and tends to punch you for no reason and your big sister is threatening to “shank” you, you turn into kind of a tough little kid. Our honey badger, 3, in just 4 short years, has grown from a monstrously fat baby, into a fearless toddler who would fling himself without abandon into any body of water, into a 2.5-year-old who rode a 2-wheel bike without training wheels (Not. Kidding.), into the b.a. who currently resides with us. He likes his bike, Taco Bell, popcorn, candy, wrestling, Curious George, his daddy, Subway Surfer, his “black skateboard shoes” (Adidas with white stripes. ???) and he loves, Loves, LOVES his penis.
C, the baby, is exactly that. It’s possible that he’s a little bit coddled. He’s 2. He likes his lovies, his sister, reading bedtime stories, French fries, playing outside and pooping in his pants.