This delicious little package will be 4 months old tomorrow. He is so cushy (look at those thighs!) and soft and cuddly, you just want to squeeze him and hold him all the time. And I do, as much as I can. However, in his infant carrier seat, he is a LUG. It's almost more than I can handle and I'm not a little weakling, by any means.
So you can imagine my dismay when we go to my doctor's office yesterday and realized the stroller wasn't in the car. I had to park in the garage and walk to the building with three kids, one of whom is unusually large and one of whom is almost 2 and does NOT want to hold hands with anyone. But we made it. My oldest is a terrific little helper and I was thankful (on this day) that she is so bossy and in charge of her little sister. I was in no position to have to carry said sister considering I was busy trying not to drop Wonder Boy, carrier and all.
As we get inside, I see people smiling kindly at the chaos that surrounds my children and I. Some older people make comments about how cute they all are, or how there was a time they were just like me with their kids. The girls are wonderful, but they are running together in the halls. Quiet, shy little Reese is yelling "HEY!" at just about everyone who passes. I have to use two hands to hold Rhett's carrier by this point, so it makes me appear completely overwhelmed and incapable. I say appear because we all know I'm completely capable and not in the least bit frazzled or uptight about any of this.
We finally make it to the elevators. Avery and Reese both push the buttons and we all get on. We are alone in the elevator (thank goodness). When we reach our floor, I say "We're here!" and step off, assuming that the girls are right there with me. I look down for them and they aren't beside me. I look up and see the elevator doors closing. All I can see is the panic on Reese's face and I can hear Avery say "MOM, HELP US!" For some reason, they didn't follow me off, and when the doors started to shut, they froze. Nothing lights a fire under an overweight mom, with an even more overweight baby in an infant seat, like sheer panic. In the very second it took me to picture them all alone on that elevator, I sprinted toward the doors and threw my arm and foot into that increasingly narrow space between the elevator door and the wall. I think I yelled "Oh my god, NO!" or something equally dramatic. I got them out just in the nick of time. They are safe. And Rhett was dangling safely in my other hand, feeling light as a feather, completely unaware of what was happening around him. I protected my children. I am woman, hear me roar. Or something like that.
P.S. When we got to the doctor's office, all the nurses were so impressed with Rhett's thighs, they just HAD to put him on the scale. Are you ready for this? He weighed....TWENTY POUNDS!!!!!!! At 4 months!!!!! My girls weighed that at a year old. Sheesh. No wonder I almost fall over every time I have to carry him. How am I supposed to tote this carrier for 8 more months with that kind of weight in it? I should have Arnold Schwarzenegger's arms by then.