My Mister Moo

I know this is a week early - his birthday isn't until October 3rd, but I've discovered a few peaceful hours sandwiched in between 2 weeks of total insanity, so I'm seizing the moment to dedicate a post to my baby boy, who we affectionately refer to as "Mr. Moo."

He's always behaved differently than the other three - maybe God's way of ridding me of the pride that would have inevitably found a place in my heart. I have to admit that in the early months, although I loved him dearly, I didn't always like my little screamer. That's pretty much what he did all day long - and the worst of it always came from about 4-10pm. Poor Danny. Night after night, we sat at the dinner table, helping the kids eat and trying to ignore the horrendous torrent of screams that endlessly drowned out every other sound within a 5-mile radius of us.

The other three all slept through the night by 8 weeks. This, I was convinced, was due to the fairly strict schedule we had them on. Malachi has since taught me the foolishness of attributing these things to good parenting! He couldn't have cared less about what the books had to say - and he gustily proved almost every one of them wrong. I began to wonder if he would always be a crabby, unhappy child. What were we doing wrong? Why was he SO high-maintenance? The amount of attention and care he demanded affected all of the kiddos, who began to "act out" in different ways. Suffice it to say, it was a rough 6 months around our house.

And then, spring wafted in, with its fragrant breezes, beautiful flowers, and . . . miracle of miracles . . . a smiling baby boy! He started sleeping longer stretches around 9 months; and he must have heard somewhere that smiling requires less facial muscles than frowning because almost overnight, he became quite the exuberant little boy. He still has a somewhat tumultuous personality, not to mention a terrifying temper; no one will ever describe him as "laid-back" or "easy"; but oh, he fills my heart with joy on a daily basis.

Never a day goes by that he doesn't send almost everyone in the house into fits of laughter - he's both a clown and a little flirt. He's also a Mamma's boy. He loves to play with other people - especially girls - unless I'm in eyeshot. Which is both endearing and frustrating.

My favorite things about Mr. Moo:

His hugs. He actually wraps his arms around my neck (and Danny's) and squeezes. He also loves to lay his head on my chest and make contented baby noises. How many ways can my heart melt?

His drool. It's actually become such a part of his identity at this point, I can't imagine him without a dark ring around the collar of every shirt.

His walk. He splays his legs out, and rushes around like a drunken sailor.

His smile.

His noise. It can be summed up in just one word: constant.

His fearlessness. He plunges headlong into just about everything - figuratively and literally. Day after day, week after week, I patiently waited to get a good picture of him; waited for one black eye to heal, and then the other. Waited for the egg on his head to disappear. Finally I gave up, realizing that there is almost never a day when he doesn't have a mark of some kind on his head. But does that teach him a lesson about being more careful? Never.

His joie de vivre. He lives life to the fullest, and his joy splashes all over everyone around him. One of my favorite everyday events is getting him out of bed in the morning. He wheezes (I can't describe it any other way!) in excitement as soon as he sees me. I pick him up and take him out to the dining room where the other three are usually eating their breakfast. As they begin a happy chorus of "Malachi!", He smiles and screeches in delight, fairly dancing in my arms. What a great way to start the day. (Then, of course, there are the days that begin with a blowout.)

There are plenty of times when I wonder why we didn't stop at three (or one!). But words cannot even come close to expressing just how grateful I am that God saw fit to bless us with this little bundle, and how much I look forward to the days and years to come. Happy Birthday, Mister Moo - I love you!