***WARNING - the below is a collection of incoherent, nonsensical ramblings...a stream of consciousness, if you will...spawned by the fact that I do not want my son to be lonely. Nor do I wish to be lonely. If you have trouble focusing, it may be best to skip this post.***
I am totally and completely grateful that I am able to be a SAHM. I am unbelievably fortunate to have such a supportive husband who encourages me every day in this role. There are ups and downs to not working outside the home, they have been talked to death, usually in a one-sided fashion. (Yes, it's completely terrific that I don't have to get out of my pajamas and I get to play with my son all day. It is, however, not easy. Just like, it's terrific that working parents have adult conversations, a little more financial stability and don't dread rainy days because it means they are stuck inside, but that doesn't mean it's easy for them either. But I digress.)
Having been a work-outside-the-home mom and a stay-at-home-mom, I feel like I have a realistic, rational view of my situation. Max was in daycare for 2 years before I stayed home with him. I worked there for the first year and half, so I didn't have to deal with the separation component of working until much later, when we were both more ready. That part was great, but I feel I did it backwards. Of course, it's non-traditional, but that's not what bothers me. When he was an infant, he received great care, but he didn't care what he did. He just needed to be fed, changed, warm and he was happy. As he got older his needs changed, obviously. When we decided I would stay home with him, he was 3 months into being 2 years old. We had a lot going on, like moving into our new house, so it was exciting for him. We were also potty training, which was SO much better, I can only imagine, since I was home with him. But once we got settled and the new-ness wore off, he began to ask if he was going to school and about his friends that he played with. I knew Max wouldn't be worse off with me in "academic" areas, but I was concerned about his social skills. He has always been so pleasant and sociable, friendly and caring, patient and kind....I didn't want him to lose those qualities just because he doesn't have to wait in line anymore, or that he is the only one asking my attention. Plus, I just felt bad for him. I mean, we have a blast together. I pretty sure it's mutual. We laugh, we dance, we sing, we play football. It's helpful to know about high quality day care, so I don't forget that it is important to be outside an hour every day, even if I don't feel like it. It provides a certain loose structure to our days that I'm sure is familiar to him. But he has no buddies.
I have very few friends with children, and of those that do, most don't live close by. And the ones that do live close may not have children the right age. Or they work out of the home. Or they're allergic/scared of our dog. So you would think it would be awesome that my cousin has a little boy born 1 year and 1 day after Max. Last year, it was irrelevant because though Max was playing with toys and running around, the little one (LO) was still too little. However, as they get older, the gap narrows and an almost 2 year old and an almost 3 year old can play really nicely. But I wouldn't know from experience because I never see them.
I tried really hard to put myself out there to my cousin and his wife. I was nothing but supportive of them throughout their pregnancy, giving them anything we had they might possibly need in that first year. Our kids were a year apart, almost to the day; how could I not want to establish a relationship right off the bat. My cousin (the dad) and I are only 2 months apart and we were very close growing up. We loved having each other at holidays and at school. Since my sisters are nowhere close to having children of their own, I wanted Max to have a someone to fill that role. But apparently LO's momma doesn't feel it's necessary. She knows I don't work. I even offered to watch LO whenever his grandma needed a break or just to have a playdate with Max once in a while. I got one morning for 2 hours at their house when my cousin was off from work. It's hard to keep offering/asking without feeling lonely and desperate.
I just realized this doesn't make much sense without going into gory details I'd rather not put out into the interwebs for anyone to stumble across. Let's suffice it to say my very close family can't quite close the gap between us and my cousin and his immediate family. And I think it's sad. And offensive when she blatantly puts out on a public forum like Facebook that she's having a playdate with her son and my son hasn't been included. I don't really care to see her ever. But I love LO and I know Max would love to have some peer time. I would love for him to have it.
It's interesting that this is a problem I am having, because I feel like it's partially due to my community and my generation. Back in the day, I remember all my friends' parents were approximately the same age. But now, people have kids at 16, 26, 36, 46 and all ages in between. So my friends, who are my age or close, either have older children that don't want anything to do with my 2 year old or aren't even in relationships, let alone having children. It would be really nice to have other SAHM to bond with, hang out with, while our kids take turns destroying each others' houses. But I do feel badly for Max. I don't think he's on the road to being anti-social yet, and he will be going to school, as scary as that is for me, so it's a temporary situation. But seriously, who doesn't like hanging out with people your own age?
My wonderful family
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Time for Me?
So, as has been the case for the last 20 years, maybe longer, I just can't remember specifics, I am taking issue with how I look. I am frustrated by my lack of self control with there is ice cream or blueberry anything in the house. I am annoyed that despite the fact that I am a smart person, I can't learn from my mistakes. Or basic science. And I'm jealous of all the fools out there who don't have to worry about this.
I am totally on board with the whole "I'm a mom, I grew a human inside me for 9 months, I breast fed for 9 more months, my body will never recover completely from that." I would totally ride that out if I was happy with myself prior to motherhood. However, I feel it's not fair to say that because it's like using a crutch when I have two working legs. And it's not fair to the poor women who actually do have a fracture or two.
I read a blog a few weeks back that someone shared on Facebook, Ten Rules for Fat Girls. It was written by 300 lb woman who was hating the haters, so to speak. She was preaching about how society expects women to be small, delicate flowers and that's not fair and how it's reinforced every time a fat girl goes shopping and can't find anything that makes her feel as beautiful as she thinks the skinny girls look. People were commenting all over it about how wonderful it is to have such a beautiful self image and if only everyone could believe in themselves and love themselves like this; inspirational! Her first rule was "You are not obligated to be thin, healthy or pretty." I strongly disagree. I am the first to say I have and always have had an unhealthy body image. I was never thin, but I always saw myself as hugely obese. Looking back at pictures from high school and college, I WISH I was that hugely obese now, meaning, I wasn't. I support self-confidence 1000% and I hope Max and any other future children are completely happy with themselves as long as they are doing their best. But I do feel you do have an obligation to be healthy. That may not mean thin OR pretty, but healthy is different. I feel an obligation to Max to be healthy. I may eat a lot, but I eat good nutritious stuff! And he is my biggest motivator to even try to get in shape and drop the pounds. I can't bear the fact that my selfish habits could cause him to lose his mother at a young age or that he will pick up bad habits and carry it on. I think we are obligated to be the best person we can for our children, and that includes being healthy. I was very tempted to comment on the blog and say so, but I feel it may have fallen on deaf ears.
So, I started Weight Watchers almost 2 years ago. It was touch and go for a while, as I figured out the system and a routine. I really do thrive on routines. I had finally lost 30+ pounds and was excited because that was more than Max weighed (weighs, actually. Don't know where he got his good genes from.) and that was a tangible amount for me. Then school was over, I was not working and was home. Despite the fact that I was home with a 2 year old, we bought a house, I cleaned and painted it in preparation to move, I managed to find a way to be sedentary most of the time. Before I knew it, it was fall and I gained it all back. How is that possible or fair that it's so fucking hard to take it off, and there's not even a reward of making it hard to put back on?
You would think, "Oh, SAHM, yes you have kids, but you must have time to exercise. People who have jobs and kids still have time to work." This may be true. Actually, I am finding out it is true. I have to go back to waking at 7 or earlier to do an at home work out and shower before Max needs me to attend to his needs. Which is not the worst thing; I woke at 5:30 or 6:00 to go to work for years, so I know I can do it. I just have to adjust my life again. I had come to enjoy the fact that I didn't need to do that. I could stay in PJs all morning if I wanted to, I could take my time snuggling with Max in bed, I could wait until Max's naptime to shower. Typing this out makes me feel like a lazy person, but I know I always had good conversation and constructive playtime with Max, which is the purpose of me staying home. I know there's a whole camp of people who don't think that is a valuable use of time when others could be doing that for me and I could have a job. I won't engage in that debate. I'm just saying I definitely enjoyed the flexibility that came with staying at home.
However, I have no flexibility in my body. I want to have more children, but as I approach my mid thirties, it becomes more high risk. When I am clinically obese, it's even riskier. Plus, I really really really hated that I didn't get the typical pregnant belly, because my belly was already so round. I tried to look the part, but I just looked fat. So I am trying to up my game. I am doing 3 miles every morning. For 2 mornings, so far, but that's 2 consecutive days. I am hoping to see change by the end of this week. I know that's not possible, but it would be so much more motivating if I could go down a size by Saturday. But I won't. So my goals are:
I am totally on board with the whole "I'm a mom, I grew a human inside me for 9 months, I breast fed for 9 more months, my body will never recover completely from that." I would totally ride that out if I was happy with myself prior to motherhood. However, I feel it's not fair to say that because it's like using a crutch when I have two working legs. And it's not fair to the poor women who actually do have a fracture or two.
I read a blog a few weeks back that someone shared on Facebook, Ten Rules for Fat Girls. It was written by 300 lb woman who was hating the haters, so to speak. She was preaching about how society expects women to be small, delicate flowers and that's not fair and how it's reinforced every time a fat girl goes shopping and can't find anything that makes her feel as beautiful as she thinks the skinny girls look. People were commenting all over it about how wonderful it is to have such a beautiful self image and if only everyone could believe in themselves and love themselves like this; inspirational! Her first rule was "You are not obligated to be thin, healthy or pretty." I strongly disagree. I am the first to say I have and always have had an unhealthy body image. I was never thin, but I always saw myself as hugely obese. Looking back at pictures from high school and college, I WISH I was that hugely obese now, meaning, I wasn't. I support self-confidence 1000% and I hope Max and any other future children are completely happy with themselves as long as they are doing their best. But I do feel you do have an obligation to be healthy. That may not mean thin OR pretty, but healthy is different. I feel an obligation to Max to be healthy. I may eat a lot, but I eat good nutritious stuff! And he is my biggest motivator to even try to get in shape and drop the pounds. I can't bear the fact that my selfish habits could cause him to lose his mother at a young age or that he will pick up bad habits and carry it on. I think we are obligated to be the best person we can for our children, and that includes being healthy. I was very tempted to comment on the blog and say so, but I feel it may have fallen on deaf ears.
So, I started Weight Watchers almost 2 years ago. It was touch and go for a while, as I figured out the system and a routine. I really do thrive on routines. I had finally lost 30+ pounds and was excited because that was more than Max weighed (weighs, actually. Don't know where he got his good genes from.) and that was a tangible amount for me. Then school was over, I was not working and was home. Despite the fact that I was home with a 2 year old, we bought a house, I cleaned and painted it in preparation to move, I managed to find a way to be sedentary most of the time. Before I knew it, it was fall and I gained it all back. How is that possible or fair that it's so fucking hard to take it off, and there's not even a reward of making it hard to put back on?
You would think, "Oh, SAHM, yes you have kids, but you must have time to exercise. People who have jobs and kids still have time to work." This may be true. Actually, I am finding out it is true. I have to go back to waking at 7 or earlier to do an at home work out and shower before Max needs me to attend to his needs. Which is not the worst thing; I woke at 5:30 or 6:00 to go to work for years, so I know I can do it. I just have to adjust my life again. I had come to enjoy the fact that I didn't need to do that. I could stay in PJs all morning if I wanted to, I could take my time snuggling with Max in bed, I could wait until Max's naptime to shower. Typing this out makes me feel like a lazy person, but I know I always had good conversation and constructive playtime with Max, which is the purpose of me staying home. I know there's a whole camp of people who don't think that is a valuable use of time when others could be doing that for me and I could have a job. I won't engage in that debate. I'm just saying I definitely enjoyed the flexibility that came with staying at home.
However, I have no flexibility in my body. I want to have more children, but as I approach my mid thirties, it becomes more high risk. When I am clinically obese, it's even riskier. Plus, I really really really hated that I didn't get the typical pregnant belly, because my belly was already so round. I tried to look the part, but I just looked fat. So I am trying to up my game. I am doing 3 miles every morning. For 2 mornings, so far, but that's 2 consecutive days. I am hoping to see change by the end of this week. I know that's not possible, but it would be so much more motivating if I could go down a size by Saturday. But I won't. So my goals are:
- Continue my daily workout. Daily. Every morning. Even when it hurts.
- Stop seeing my days as grazing times and naptime as gorge fest.
- Read this post as often as necessary to attain #1 and #2.
I want to set an example of healthy living for Max. I want to be attractive to my husband. And in general. I want people to say, "Wow! You look great!" when they see me after a long period of time. I want to be comfortable in my own skin. I want to come to terms with the fact I will never ever be the itty bitty chickie I want to be so badly. But I can be a healthy, happy mom for Max and be around to dance at his wedding, and hold my own grandchildren.
PS I am totally plugging The Laurie Berkner Band's concert in Glenside, PA. Quality music, wholesome entertainment, danceable tunes....what more could you ask for in a family night out??
PS I am totally plugging The Laurie Berkner Band's concert in Glenside, PA. Quality music, wholesome entertainment, danceable tunes....what more could you ask for in a family night out??
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Today is Better...
So since yesterday's post, things got worse with Max. But today they got better.
There's not enough interweb to go into the details of the emotional turmoil yesterday took on me. I felt frustration, sadness, despair, anger. I tried so hard not to let that show for Max's sake. I didn't want him to know he was putting me in this place I've never been. I also didn't want to give him the upper hand, if I'm being completely honest. By evening time, his blatant refusal had escalated to the type of scene you see in ridiculous movies about problem children. When I calmly put him on the steps to relax (our time-out), he screamed "NO!" at me and ran away. I calmly returned him to the step, and again and again, until I sat with him and held him there. I hate the way that even looks in print. I was there and I know exactly what happened, yet I am picturing myself sitting on him or throwing him down on the step. This did not happen. I just sat with him. He screamed and cried. He tried to lean in for a hug and as I fought back the tears (unsuccessfully) as I had to decide whether to give him a hug or not.
I realize how awful that sounds. Why would a mother not give her crying son a hug?? I wanted to, hence the tears. I was just so caught up in my frustration that I didn't know if hugging him in that moment, after he fought with me all day, or even if I work within his own short term memory, those last 15 minutes, if that would reinforce the idea in his mind that all he has to do is cry and all would be okay. All will be okay, but I was so afraid of developing a pattern that was similar to his behavior that day...I didn't know how I would last if that was our new life together.
Admittedly, I was snowballing. One bad day doesn't mean a bad kid. But it was a really, really bad day. I told Dave that as difficult as being a parent is, up until this point, I felt confident I was doing right by Max. I knew even when it wasn't easy, it was for the best. Now it's not easy AND I am not confident in my parenting to know I am acting for the best possible outcome. I know what I do now could have lasting effects on Max and establish precedents that we will all have to deal with forever.
I needed today to happen. I needed a good night's sleep and some support from Dave to reassess and see Max for the beautiful little boy he is, a good kid with bad days, who still deserves a hug, even and especially in our darkest moments. I needed to forgive myself for feeling frustrated with him and for the mistakes I may have made and will make in the future. I needed my skills and tools that I carefully choose to work with Max and to be effective. Today that happened.
I took a day to put Max first, not just juggle him in with a bunch of other tasks (he's napping now, so this doesn't count). I listened to him and answered him the first time he spoke to me, just as I am asking him to do. I recognized why he might not do what I ask, why he might be so angry he has to yell at me, and told him I recognize these things. I valued his feelings and gave him acceptable outlets for them. I recognize it won't always work and we will have awful days again. But I needed today to be a good day, and it was. And for that I am maternally grateful. (wokka wokka.)
There's not enough interweb to go into the details of the emotional turmoil yesterday took on me. I felt frustration, sadness, despair, anger. I tried so hard not to let that show for Max's sake. I didn't want him to know he was putting me in this place I've never been. I also didn't want to give him the upper hand, if I'm being completely honest. By evening time, his blatant refusal had escalated to the type of scene you see in ridiculous movies about problem children. When I calmly put him on the steps to relax (our time-out), he screamed "NO!" at me and ran away. I calmly returned him to the step, and again and again, until I sat with him and held him there. I hate the way that even looks in print. I was there and I know exactly what happened, yet I am picturing myself sitting on him or throwing him down on the step. This did not happen. I just sat with him. He screamed and cried. He tried to lean in for a hug and as I fought back the tears (unsuccessfully) as I had to decide whether to give him a hug or not.
I realize how awful that sounds. Why would a mother not give her crying son a hug?? I wanted to, hence the tears. I was just so caught up in my frustration that I didn't know if hugging him in that moment, after he fought with me all day, or even if I work within his own short term memory, those last 15 minutes, if that would reinforce the idea in his mind that all he has to do is cry and all would be okay. All will be okay, but I was so afraid of developing a pattern that was similar to his behavior that day...I didn't know how I would last if that was our new life together.
Admittedly, I was snowballing. One bad day doesn't mean a bad kid. But it was a really, really bad day. I told Dave that as difficult as being a parent is, up until this point, I felt confident I was doing right by Max. I knew even when it wasn't easy, it was for the best. Now it's not easy AND I am not confident in my parenting to know I am acting for the best possible outcome. I know what I do now could have lasting effects on Max and establish precedents that we will all have to deal with forever.
I needed today to happen. I needed a good night's sleep and some support from Dave to reassess and see Max for the beautiful little boy he is, a good kid with bad days, who still deserves a hug, even and especially in our darkest moments. I needed to forgive myself for feeling frustrated with him and for the mistakes I may have made and will make in the future. I needed my skills and tools that I carefully choose to work with Max and to be effective. Today that happened.
I took a day to put Max first, not just juggle him in with a bunch of other tasks (he's napping now, so this doesn't count). I listened to him and answered him the first time he spoke to me, just as I am asking him to do. I recognized why he might not do what I ask, why he might be so angry he has to yell at me, and told him I recognize these things. I valued his feelings and gave him acceptable outlets for them. I recognize it won't always work and we will have awful days again. But I needed today to be a good day, and it was. And for that I am maternally grateful. (wokka wokka.)
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
My Kid is a Jerk
Or shall I say, he CAN be a jerk. As we all can at times, of course. It just seems that Max's jerkiness is in concentrated form lately. And on a related note, I've not blogged in 2 months. How is that related, you might ask? Well, it's because my life has been crazy since November until a few weeks ago. Therefore, Max's life has been crazy. Therefore, he's a jerk. I took critical thinking in college, I think that's how it works.
So let's reflect. Several months ago, we decided I could make my return to theatre by directing the January production for Gaslight. It was a show near and dear to my heart, so leaving Max almost nightly for several weeks would be made easier. Plus, I "rationalized" it to myself by telling myself that it's important for Max to see me as a person, not exclusively his mom. A person who not only is capable of things outside our home, but pursues them. That while balance is very important, so is variety. Daddy is not the only one who has evening obligations. I am passionate about people and projects in addition to my family and home. I do believe these things are important for Max to see and for me to do so I too can see those things in myself.
However, it was hard. For so many reasons. I haven't done any theatre since I was pregnant, and I hadn't directed a show since a year prior to that. Being out of the game that long definitely brings self-doubt and anxiety about every choice. So now, I'm "abandoning" Max for a project that I'm not sure will even be good.
Dave's schedule hadn't worked out exactly as I had thought it would, meaning Max was spending a lot of nights with my parents. Trust me, I am so eternally grateful we have them and that they are so close. Max loves spending time with them and he brings them such joy. I trust them to make wise decisions with Max and that he will be well fed and taken care of. However, there are naturally discrepancies in our child-rearing styles, such as bedtime, activities, TV... Once in a while, these differences are minor and don't have much impact; they're even seen as a treat for Max by him and us. However, when Max spends so much time with them and then has to return to the rigorous structure of his actual home, there's naturally going to be dissension in the ranks. And Max didn't disappoint.
Throw Christmas in the mix, especially when Max is the only (young) grandchild on both Dave's and my sides of the family, and you have the makings for a bratty kid.
Now, it's January 23 and Max's behavior has not only not resolved itself, but seems to have gotten worse. Bedtime takes an hour at minimum, just from the time we first say good night to when he finally settles quietly. He is waking in the night and wandering into our room, just to ask us (me) to put him back in his own bed. He's back to not eating well, replacing it with goofy obnoxious table behavior. And the mouth...I always knew I would have a mouthy kid to deal with as penance for what I put my mom through. However, I didn't anticipate dealing with it at almost 3; I thought I'd have until 13 at least! He yells at me, screams "No!" when asked to do something, is so defiant, and downright bratty. Where did this boy come from?? I am concerned that this isn't just a phase, or worse, that my lack of patience for this behavior will make it irreparable.
I am so proud of the good things I've taught Max. He (typically) has good manners, saying May I and Thank You. He (typically) is so sweet and encouraging, frequently telling people he is playing with Good Job! and Nice Try! He tells us spontaneously that he loves us and willingly gives hugs and kisses. He has always been a good listener, following directions and shown appropriate responsibility for his age, if not more. This turnaround is not only infuriating for the obvious reasons, but because it's such a shift from the well-behaved and admittedly "easy" kid I've had for almost 3 years.
I am researching as much as possible to get various perspectives in dealing with a newly difficult child. I understand the developmental psychology of it all. He is torn between yearning for independence and the inability to accept it. He feels all the feelings we do, without the strength to handle them. And I'm sure it just pisses him off when he has to do anything like clean up, stop playing, wash hands, etc. But I don't know how to react appropriately without ruining his innate spirit. Plus, half the time, I feel he doesn't give a crap about his consequences, no matter how cruel I fear they may be.
I guess I'm learning that all those people who were jealous of us when Max slept through the night at 2 weeks, was always so happy and pleasant, was so well behaved in church and pretty much everywhere, always was a good eater....they have the last laugh. Because just when we thought we were ready to have another baby, Max gives us the ride of his life.
So let's reflect. Several months ago, we decided I could make my return to theatre by directing the January production for Gaslight. It was a show near and dear to my heart, so leaving Max almost nightly for several weeks would be made easier. Plus, I "rationalized" it to myself by telling myself that it's important for Max to see me as a person, not exclusively his mom. A person who not only is capable of things outside our home, but pursues them. That while balance is very important, so is variety. Daddy is not the only one who has evening obligations. I am passionate about people and projects in addition to my family and home. I do believe these things are important for Max to see and for me to do so I too can see those things in myself.
However, it was hard. For so many reasons. I haven't done any theatre since I was pregnant, and I hadn't directed a show since a year prior to that. Being out of the game that long definitely brings self-doubt and anxiety about every choice. So now, I'm "abandoning" Max for a project that I'm not sure will even be good.
Dave's schedule hadn't worked out exactly as I had thought it would, meaning Max was spending a lot of nights with my parents. Trust me, I am so eternally grateful we have them and that they are so close. Max loves spending time with them and he brings them such joy. I trust them to make wise decisions with Max and that he will be well fed and taken care of. However, there are naturally discrepancies in our child-rearing styles, such as bedtime, activities, TV... Once in a while, these differences are minor and don't have much impact; they're even seen as a treat for Max by him and us. However, when Max spends so much time with them and then has to return to the rigorous structure of his actual home, there's naturally going to be dissension in the ranks. And Max didn't disappoint.
Throw Christmas in the mix, especially when Max is the only (young) grandchild on both Dave's and my sides of the family, and you have the makings for a bratty kid.
Now, it's January 23 and Max's behavior has not only not resolved itself, but seems to have gotten worse. Bedtime takes an hour at minimum, just from the time we first say good night to when he finally settles quietly. He is waking in the night and wandering into our room, just to ask us (me) to put him back in his own bed. He's back to not eating well, replacing it with goofy obnoxious table behavior. And the mouth...I always knew I would have a mouthy kid to deal with as penance for what I put my mom through. However, I didn't anticipate dealing with it at almost 3; I thought I'd have until 13 at least! He yells at me, screams "No!" when asked to do something, is so defiant, and downright bratty. Where did this boy come from?? I am concerned that this isn't just a phase, or worse, that my lack of patience for this behavior will make it irreparable.
I am so proud of the good things I've taught Max. He (typically) has good manners, saying May I and Thank You. He (typically) is so sweet and encouraging, frequently telling people he is playing with Good Job! and Nice Try! He tells us spontaneously that he loves us and willingly gives hugs and kisses. He has always been a good listener, following directions and shown appropriate responsibility for his age, if not more. This turnaround is not only infuriating for the obvious reasons, but because it's such a shift from the well-behaved and admittedly "easy" kid I've had for almost 3 years.
I am researching as much as possible to get various perspectives in dealing with a newly difficult child. I understand the developmental psychology of it all. He is torn between yearning for independence and the inability to accept it. He feels all the feelings we do, without the strength to handle them. And I'm sure it just pisses him off when he has to do anything like clean up, stop playing, wash hands, etc. But I don't know how to react appropriately without ruining his innate spirit. Plus, half the time, I feel he doesn't give a crap about his consequences, no matter how cruel I fear they may be.
I guess I'm learning that all those people who were jealous of us when Max slept through the night at 2 weeks, was always so happy and pleasant, was so well behaved in church and pretty much everywhere, always was a good eater....they have the last laugh. Because just when we thought we were ready to have another baby, Max gives us the ride of his life.
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