... When There Just Aren't Any Words

The bright side of not being able to nurse:
Tot and sister get to help!

We all know there are bad days... and then there are bad days.  I find myself having more of the latter these past few weeks.  Health issues that have led me to wean my baby are part of the problem. The adjustment to taking care of three kids is a contributing factor, too.  And then the I'm-so-tired-I-can't-remember-when-my-baby-was-born-so-please-don't-ask-me reality often turns a bad day into a bad day.  For these days, there just aren't any words.

But I found an exception.

I recently sent a text that read: "Yesterday was such a challenging day, I almost had a breakdown.  Instead I just said the 'F word' a hundred times."  Not one of my proudest moments.

Usually my kids are the ones who leave me speechless, but, occasionally my husband does, too.  For instance:

1.  After the two toddlers were in bed, my husband was on the floor "playing" with the baby.  He gave me a sheepish grin.  "Guess what I just did?"  Grin got bigger.  "I just gave Gus some chocolate ice cream!"  You just gave my 3-week-old baby chocolate ice cream?!  No words. 

"The only time I don't get mad when I share my bacon is when I get to
share it with my kids." -Nick
June 2014

2.  I momentarily set the baby on the living room chair, which spins, so I could be hands-free and attend to something else.  Miriam and Noah flocked toward Gus.  They began spinning him on the chair.  When I reported this incident to Nick later that evening, he gave me another sheepish grin.  "Oh, I taught them how to spin the baby."  Oh, really?  Did you?  Dead silence. 

3.  Noah is entirely obsessed with pirates, carrying a foam pirate sword with him wherever he goes, including his bed.  A dozen times a day, he hands me a sword and says, "I'm Peter Pan!  You're Captain Hook!  Fight, fight!"  We start slashing our swords.  Recently he began narrating, "I cut off your arm!  I chop off your leg!  I cut off your head!"  Again, when I report this to Nick, he said, "Yeah, I know.  That's how we play."  Ah, no big deal.  Maybe dismemberment is just a one-year-old boy thing?  Zip.  Zilch.  Nada.

Our Pirate, June 2014

We've been blessed to have three kids before our fourth anniversary.  I would compare these four years to a merry-go-round that induces morning motion sickness.  Nick, I bet, would compare them to the most thrilling roller coaster of his life.

"Mary Poppins"  June 2014

When Nick and I first met in a college seminar class, he claims he was attracted to me because I showed up late, in sweats, with coffee, and sat in the back corner every day.  He's lucked out, because I still show up late, wear sweats every day, and am attached to a cup of coffee.  Clearly, I was not interested in this class and paid no attention to anyone else who was in it.  So when he approached me after class to ask me to a dance, I politely had to ask, "Who are you?"

Eleven years later, I can go on and on about who he is.  But I'll leave it at this: Nick loves being a husband, and he loves being a tot.  Even on my worst days, I still win because he is my "Free Parking" in Monopoly, my "Province" in Dominion, and my "city" in Settlers.  (That's top-notch romance).  I'm grateful for all the times Nick has left me speechless, because those are the moments of impact. They are the memory-builders.

So, for all those times when there just aren't any words, those Basement Words will have to do: I love you.

6.26.2010