like a dagger through the heart

Today was, by most accounts, a pretty great day. It was sunny and warm- I wore a skirt for the first time this season (Quinn seemed confused by this, came up to me and asked "What's on your legs??" I guess it's rare to see me not wearing jeans). I dried Q's diapers out in the sun beside of our house (conserving energy and classy-ing up the neighborhood at the same time, y'all). D and I had a mini picnic lunch and snuggled in the sunshine out front before going to one of the two birthday parties of the afternoon. It was his first "drop-off" party, which itself feels like a bit of a milestone, and while the house was a bit of a drive away the drive was gorgeously scenic and left me falling in love with New Hampshire all over again.

Seriously, how adorably rustic is this?

It was a day filled with friends and sun and good times, and yet even these great days can be exhausting. And so by bedtime we were all fairly worn out and on short fuses (or at least the boys and I were, Zach seemed fine). There was a fight to get D in the tub, and of course once in he remembered that baths are awesome, and then Q screamed and cried and it took several minutes to realize he just wanted his truck (the one very specific truck, of course) because when he's upset he loses all ability to speak coherently and resorts to hysterical, high-pitched screeching.

It was about then that D informed me that it had been a bad idea to have two kids, two kids is too hard and we should have just had one kid because that's easier and then he'd have plenty of time to spend with just me, and two kids was just a bad idea. And, well, I guess I've been wondering when this would show up. D has been so amazingly patient with Q and the way his world got turned completely upside down when Q entered the picture, and I've wondered if, when, and how that resentment would surface. He didn't seem that upset when he said it tonight, but he did say it and I know he honestly feels it, at least some of the time. Which is entirely fair on his part, really-- having a younger sibling can be a total pain in the ass sometimes. One of the hardest things for me about having two kids is constantly feeling torn between their different needs, different stages of development and independence that call for such different things sometimes (and oh so often at the same exact time), feeling like I'm often neglecting one for the sake of the other.  That's gotten so much better as they've both gotten older and thus more independent, and slightly better able to wait for things...but it's still there and I guess to some degree it may always be.

Tackling each other while watching the soccer games yesterday.

Digging for worms (and snacks)

When we sit down to eat D almost always asks me to sit down right next to him. A couple weeks ago he again requested I sit with him at lunch, and then he said to me, "Mom, the reason I like you to sit with me at dinner, breakfast, and lunch is because I get to spend time with you, because I don't get much time with just me and you." Oh ouch.

I know that D loves his brother. I know how much they enjoy playing together. I know (or at least hope) that they will grow up to have the sort of relationship and appreciation for each other that Zach and I enjoy with our own siblings. And yes, I even know that my standards for parenting in this modern age are higher than those for almost every other generation before us, that I probably spend more "quality time" with each of my boys than has been the "norm" for most families over time and so I shouldn't feel guilty, etc etc etc.

I know all of that, and yet it still feels like a dagger through the heart when I hear my son say those things.