One day I'll have a life again...

Quinn has gotten to that point where he can be so damn delightful that it almost kills you.  He'll be so smiley and cute, so adorable as he waggles his chubby arms and legs all around with excitement, as he rolls around on the ground chasing this toy or that, looking so sweet as he falls asleep nuzzled up to my chest.  I'll look at him and just explode with LOVE for him.  It melts my heart, and I often swoop down and gobble him up in kisses (which is made even more awesome by the belly laughs that erupt when I kiss his neck-- or the spot where his neck would be if he had one).

Almost every time someone new approaches them, he'll give them this big grin.  It's adorable.  I constantly hear comments about what a cute baby he is, what a happy little boy he is.  Which makes me feel both incredibly proud, and some days makes me wanna punch the person in the face because, um, sure he's happy... when I'm holding him.  Try to set him down or hand him to someone else, and more often than not those cute smiles morph into tortured tears within a matter of minutes.

Yesterday was Zach's birthday.  I'm kinda proud of myself for pulling off as much as I did to celebrate-- I managed to get him a real present, on time no less, and while I didn't bake the cake this year I did the next best thing-- got him an ice-cream cake, which turns out is one of his favorites.  So in some ways the day was a success, and Zach made a point of telling me how much he enjoyed everything and what a great day he had.

And yet, as the day wore on and Quinn got all fussy and Donovan was in one of his foul three-year-old moods that have been a common occurrence lately, and Zach, on his birthday, was washing dishes and cooking dinner, I couldn't help but feel disappointed for not being able to make it a better day for him (more relaxing, better present, actual birthday party, etc).  That's been a recurring theme for this year-- every holiday or special date since Quinn's birth has gone by almost unnoticed, neither one of us very able to put much effort into celebrating.  Christmas was incredibly low-key, our anniversary came and went with us hardly even acknowledging it, etc (which is why I'm proud of myself for just getting a gift and a cake for this birthday).  I've given myself permission to expect very little of this first year with Quinn, knowing that taking care of a moody 3 year old and a demanding infant leaves me with very little energy or time to do anything else at all.  I keep reminding myself that by next year it will be better, that over time things will get better-- the boys will require less intense attention, giving us more time to, for example, plan a proper birthday party. Life won't always be like this, feel this chaotic and frazzled. I won't always have no time for anything other than my children.  I think a lot of the time I do ok with all this.  But sometimes, it still just feels sucky.

Happy (slightly belated) Birthday, babe.  You mean the world to me and I can't imagine going through all this (the good and the bad) without you.