Birthday Season 2017: Patrick is 10!

In hindsight, it's funny really.

Baby Matthew was born on Monday. We came home from the hospital on Tuesday night. Wednesday is blurry. Real, real blurry. Thursday was prolly part of the same blur.

That's when Pete looked at me and said, "You know Patrick's birthday's on Tuesday, right?"

Ridiculous.

I don't kid with this "Birthday Season" title. Check it--

First, it's Matthew's. One week later, it's Patrick's. Two weeks later, it's James'. Three weeks later, it's Elliott's.

Did I mention that three of four birthdays occur in May, the single, most insane month to have three kids and a husband in four different schools? And I just had a baby. And my van wouldn't start while I was picking up Patrick's big gift. And after I got the van jumped and got it into the fix-it shop, they accidentally flattened the back end while towing another car. And then Patrick got sick, got sick again and then missed school on his birthday, which happened to double as the big field trip day.

As a result, I was wildly sleep-deprived, the van needed a new battery and bumper, and Patrick never got out of his PJs.

Hap-py birth-day to you, hap-py birth-day tooo yooooou...

We made the most of it.

Smile big and convincingly, Paddy--

Better. (I mean, balloons are the best medicine.)

Without further ado (and because I have no other photos), the big present was: a French horn! (I know we seem like the weirdest gift-givers, but this was his actual instrument of choice after calling it quits on a few years of piano. I daresay, we make oddly musical children. At least, so far.)

Just one quick lesson from Elliott on how to hold it...

...and he was making toots!

One moment later, he was able to achieve Optimal French Horn Face!

We had his dinner wish (Sbarro pizza--not kidding) and readied our singing voices.

So, kid, how does it feel turning a decade under such happycrappy circumstances?

Eh. Dessert's in your immediate future. And there's always next year!

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Edited to add because I just this second remembered: We did not slight Patrick THAT much. He did, in fact, have a joint b-day party with his best buddy at a mini golf place. Phew! Quite frankly, I didn't remember because his buddy's parents took the pity-lead, and we didn't even attend!

Proof from the putt-putt party place--

Birthday Season 2017: Matthew is 0!

You guys. Stuff has happened. And before more stuff happens, I'm going to blog about Birthday Season 2017. ('Twas a doozy!)

Here goes. With next to no Space, we made another Scully. (See what I did there?)

All indications were that I'd be pregnant forever...

...but heck if that kid didn't come out!

I could write a whole, long post about how we went into Dublin Methodist Hospital for a scheduled induction the morning of May 8 and how the kindly nurses had no earthly idea who I was or why we'd be there with overnight bags and hopes of no longer being pregnant, but that sounds boring. Suffice it to say Pete and I must've been convincing because LOOK what I did just a few short hours later--

(I may look sweet and motherly here, but this photo is actually badassery. I delivered drug-free! Just because!)

Pedro, ever the loyal Worthington rep, got to relish in my hard work.

Look at that hair! And all those bracelets and anklets! Mr. Matthew Henry, the baby my doc said I had less than a one percent chance of conceiving, was born at 4:08 p.m., weighing 8 pounds, 7 ounces and measuring 22.5 inches long.

He was unimpressed by the dinky hospital bed and dumb duck blanket.

Grammy, who lovingly raised the boys in our two-day absence, brought the big boys in to meet their new brother that evening.

Precious photo ops abounded...

...but YOU KNOW this shot is my all-time favorite.

While we got rid of most every single thing helpful in raising babies, we kept this! All four boys have come home from the hospital in this very outfit!

We couldn't wait to get out of the hospital (because we thought we'd sleep better at home--hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!), but this parting shot captures our sprawling accommodations.

But first! The obligatory look-how-ridiculously-small-you-are-in-your-carseat shot--

Here's where I'll tell you we settled into a peaceful routine at home, but you know that's a big ol' lie. Sleep deprivation is hard core. Getting breastfeeding established (even when you've done it before) can be tortuous. Realizing (over the course of many days and weeks) that we actually have four kids...going in four different directions...at four different speeds...is nuts.

But we'll only remember the snuggles, right?

We're keeping him.