Oh, the Madness!

I don't know what I've gotten myself into, y'all.

Yeah, I've had cold feet about the whole "three kids" thing before - on more than one occasion. Right before Coby was born in September, I had a mini-meltdown thinking about how I was going to handle the two I had plus a new baby. But you know what? It worked. Coby is nearly six months old (already! Yikes!), and there have been no major fiascos in his short little life ... yet. We've got our routine down, and I can handle a four-year-old, two-year-old and five-month-old simultaneously ... for now.

But.

Several developments of late have got me seriously fearing for my future sanity. First of all is this new trend of the boys beating each other's asses. I mean, they've more or less always squabbled, but now they're taking it to a whole new level. Brother steals a piece of food from your plate? Whack him with a mean sidearm. Brother wants the random piece of junk toy you're playing with? Shove him into the nearest wall. Brother innocently watching TV? This calls for an ambush, ninja-style. The change mystifies me ... all I can chalk it up to is the fact that they're getting older. But they're four and two. I have the sinking feeling that this is only going to get worse. I mean, I've still got another one to add to the mix. Lord help me.

(We interrupt this blog post for a "LOL" moment: I actually just heard Colin say to his brother, "You can blow me, but don't lick me." He was talking about his shoulder, but ...hee hee hee)

*ahem*

Then there's the nap schedule. I've had it down to a science until now: all three boys, for the past three months at least, have napped at the same time every day. But now Colin is outgrowing the need for an afternoon rest. And Coby has entered this catnapping phase - close eyes for ten minutes, wake up and fuss because he's tired, repeat. This is a crisis, y'all. That precious nap was my ticket to surfing the 'Net in peace getting things done! How am I supposed to stay abreast of pop culture get my laundry caught up now?

I guess I can handle everything. I mean, I don't have much of a choice (if I did, I'd be in some tropical locale sucking up frosty drinks like they're going out of style). But it'd be nice if the boys would give me some warning before they decide to throw a wrench into our routine. Or if they, you know, came with an instruction manual or something.

Off to mediate another beating dispute.