Pajama Party

We're having a sleepover tonight, Wil, and Jonas and Steven and me. It's hard to believe how long it's been since Steven has spent a night with us. Jeez, I think he was still in diapers.

Ok, so maybe it hasn't been quite that long, but it feels like forever. It's amazing how fast they grow.

The boys are on the couch doing all the things they aren't supposed to do... drinking sugary sodas, eating t.v. dinners with their fingers, and scratching their respective parts like the men that they are.

Jonas, of course, is off to bed. Little ones aren't much for pajama parties, and besides, he already stayed up an hour later than his normal bedtime.

I live for weekends like this. Weekends where Wil isn't on call, and we can all relax. He kept Jonas this morning while I worked. It wasn't easy for him. He hasn't had to be the lone ranger of baby care in a long time, and Jonas has changed so much just in the past few weeks. Feeding him has become a job that takes patience and stealth. It's hard to get a perfectly aimed spoon past the arms and into the proper facial orifice without wearing at least half of it. There's an art to it, and sound effects are vital.

There's nothing funnier than standing there in the lobby of the clinic, phone pressed to my ear, explaining that the race car noises work better than the helicopter to a distraught husband while clients just stare at me like I'm nuts.

They're just too damn old to remember what it's like to try and sneak strained peas into a squirmy little babe.

Speaking of squirmy, now that Jonas is somewhat mobile, trying to diaper and dress him is like wrestling a herd of angry eels. And who decided that baby clothes should have so many damn snaps and buttons anyway? Wouldn't it be easier to just put a few little velcro tabs there? Easy to open, easy to shut. Some days it feels like a real accomplishment just to get him fed, bathed and dressed. Nevermind the fact that an hour later, it's time to wrestle him into his jammies for the night.

So anyway, sitting here, feeling like the outsider in a house full of boys tonight, I realize that I can't wait for Jonas to be all big and grown up like Steven, watching t.v. with his Daddy, playing games and eating forbidden junk food way past bedtime. Then I look at my sleeping little bundle... the way his lips pouch out in that content little half-smile, the tiny relaxed fists raised above his head and resting on my pillow, his pudgy ankles crossed and laid atop the blanket, the sweet little baby snore he has, and I don't think I ever want him to change.