Royals!

"Hey, is this his first Royal's game?"

"Actually it's his second."

"Wow! What a lucky guy!!"

Hank went to his second Royal's game on Saturday. Even though he slept through more than half of it, we think he liked it.

Ben and Susanna LOVE Royal's games and hopefully Hanky will too. I actually hope I don't ruin baseball for him. We watch a lot of games, play a lot of backyard ball, have a lot of Royals apparel. I even commentate games to him while I feed him.

I don't know why I do it. Chuck turns the game on and leaves the room. Then I'm sitting there, nursing my babe, watching the game and I find myself saying things like, "Moose hit a grounder to second and they turned two. The inning is over. Who didn't see that coming?"

What?

Why?

I'm so sorry Hank.

Here are some pics from our last two games.

Hank's first Royals game and a cheesy big brother and sister. 

Family Pic!

Hank cuddling Daddy at his second game
(Mom and Susanna were on our way to the restroom).

Susanna snuggling Baby Lily. 

Now Baba is snuggling Lily - sucker!

Benny being silly waiting on a home run!

One Month with Baby Hank

Baby Hank turned one month old this week and in these sweet four weeks I have decided that it is amazing that third (or subsequent) children survive.

Newborn Baby Hank

Don't get me wrong, there is a lot of love for a new little baby. Maybe too much love.

On his one week birthday, which happened to be my birthday, my big kids gave me one of the greatest birthday presents ever. I received a card that plays the Chicken Dance song and a rousing performance of said Chicken Dance. Chuck and I were laughing at all those hot dance moves and Susanna said that Baby Hank needed to be with the family. (She is very sweet to include everyone.)

We told her that he was napping and he could join next time. The next thing we knew, she was gone. Chuck said, "I hope she didn't go to get the baby."

Then we heard her sweet little voice announce, "I bwing-ed the baby down!"

Miss Susanna was standing on the landing of our split stairs clutching a swaddled and still-asleep Baby Hank.

We both told her not to move and scared her. She let Chuck take the baby (he said she had a pretty good bear hug on him and we probably didn't have anything to worry about) and went to me crying.

I told her she we loved her and that there were lots of things she could do for Baby Hank, but carrying him was a job for Mommy or Daddy. To her credit, she has not picked him up again.

During that incident, she carried him through the living room and kitchen and down six steps before we saw her. (Another side note, she slid down those same stairs earlier that day. She simply slipped and then slid on her bottom for the last three stairs.)

That was Baby Hank's biggest adventure; however, he has also survived:

1. Brandy licking him every time he comes home. 
2. A two-year-old manually swinging his swing.
3. Being served king-sized portions of pretend food.
4. Almost being served real grapes. 
5. One Royals game (Only two people told me they left their babies at home because they thought it was probably too hot for a baby. First, it was 80 degrees and we spent most of the game, under an awning watching the game on a TV. He was fine. Second, I resisted the urge to tell them, "That's cool, but my baby likes to have fun so here he is. I'm sorry your baby doesn't like fun. That must be sad."
6. Children under five holding him no less than three times a day.
7. Flying balls. Our house is basically like living in a batting cage.
8. A tired, confused, divided mother who puts his diaper on incorrectly on the night.

The last item is the opposite of too much love. And at this point, it's been five years since I've slept "through the night". So I'm not just newborn sleepy, I'm I-haven't-slept-in-years-and-my brain-is-a-permanently-broken sleepy.

And I have other responsibilities, I can't hover over Hank the way I did with Ben. He squeaked! Is he waking up? I better check.

Here is a daily scenario:

Susanna goes to the bathroom to poop.

Hanky starts to stir. 

She hollers, "I'm done!"

Hank starts to cry.

I go in to help Sus wipe.

She says, "I might have a little bit more poop."

I go out because all three-year-olds need privacy when deciding if a bowl movement is complete.

I start to head to Hank who is now wailing.

Ben intercepts me, "I can't find my baseball glove, Mom! I think it's in the van. I'm going to go check."

"No! Don't go check! I'll help you." (The last thing we need is the five-year-old opening the van liftgate into a closed garage door.

Found the glove, back inside. Hank is now crying so hard he's not actually making sounds anymore. 

Susanna announces, "I'm weally done now."

I wipe her bottom. 

We both wash our hands. 

I convince her not to wash her hands again.

And I finally get to to Baby Hank who is beside himself and gasping for air. It's very very sad. 

So I have decided that third children either get way too much love or a totally ignored. And it is surprising that they survive at all. 

Hanky Baby, please forgive me. I love you dearly and am doing the best I can. 

Baby Hank sleeping peacefully in his swing.

Sweet Sister Susanna holding Hanky.

Big Brother Ben talking to Hank while I made lunch!

Enderle Cousins :)