I've got a sucker baby

I think it was my sister who referred to her first born as a "sucker baby". You know, the ones that never cry, happily sleep in their cribs, good travelers, can amuse themselves for hours, can be held by anyone. Just an overall content baby. Those angel babies are the ones that "sucker" you into having another baby.

Yea, I have one of those. He makes me want to have a brood. Four kids*? Yea I'd like that.  

This week Wes did everything with me. We went to the park, grocery store, farmer's market, dress shop, outlets, Target, Michael's and not to mention a visit from the physical therapist and a trip to the pediatrician's. He was perfect; not a peep! Just a happy baby as long as he can sleep, eat, play and amuse himself endlessly with solid eye contact with whoever is holding him. I always lose that staring contest. We may not be anywhere near my brave friend Tammy who traveled to California with her 3 month old daughter for a 36 hour trip, but I see us as a rather active duo. 

But then comes in the reality that no matter how angelic and easy going he is, I know that the chances baby #2 will surely be like Linda Blair in the exorcist, head spinning and all. Then there's the lack of sleep we're getting now. How can we possibly have four kids? We had tornado warnings last night, so I hauled all of us, furbabies included, down into the basement. Wes and John were fast asleep, while I was too nervous to sleep. I had to be the one listening for the tornado {yea, I'm intense}while periodically checking on Wes, who was situated in the crook of the sectional surrounded by a barrage of pillows. My wild dreams don't help either. Every night in my sleep I strip the bed of the comforter, pull the pillow cases off, and check the bed, floor and pack-n-play for Wes, thinking he is surely suffocating. John has basically programmed himself to tell me "Wes is in his crib" in his sleep while simultaneously holding onto the sheets with an iron grip so I don't pull them off. Oh, and don't get me started on the noises this kid makes. Sometimes you think a dog is in his room barking, or a demon talking directly into the monitor. It's freaky, and it does not promote good sleep. 

This morning, like every weekend morning, was tough. We're off our schedule and so is Wes. We're exhausted, our house looks like a tornado went through it, and so do we. I can't believe it's Saturday. I can't believe I want more kids. But then you look at this kid...

*I'm the dope that wants four kids. John would be satisfied with two; three at the absolute max.