Alternately: The Most Boring Post On The Internet.
I didn’t have jack shit of my own when I was pregnant with Ben. Everything I had and everything that he had was graciously given to me by other people as I had no influx of income, only a douchy ex who wanted me to itemize everything I ever bought for Ben. I know. I KNOW. I sure knew how to pick ’em.
Ladies, don’t all clamor for his number at once, please. And stop throwing your underwear at the computer, I promise it won’t help you win his heart.
But anyway, because I was not exactly rolling in the dollar bills, I had to kind of make do with whatever people gave me for Ben. Baby Stuff is something most people are really eager to hand down to others, usually by the carful, because, well, it costs a fucking fortune and usually can be used and reused. So, I was showered with hand-me-downs, which, awesome. Unless it involved swishy-looking pastels, which, not QUITE as awesome.
By the time that Alex was born–5 years later–the hand-me-downs were long gone, handed down to someone else. I had some of the clothes from Ben, but even those had been scavenged before I got to them again. No fear, though, because this time around, I was fortunate enough to be in a decent enough financial situation to not require castoffs.
Meticulously The Daver and I began to pick up painstakingly researched gear: the car seat, the pack-n-play, the swing and the bouncy seat. And the high chair. While Dave had been content with just having Ben, I’d wanted a gaggle of kids. We settled on two–Ben and Alex–with the option to have #3. With that in mind, we tended to try and pick out the more resilient options so that we didn’t have to buy it all again.
What we hadn’t really taken into account is who the fetus flipping about in my body cavity was: Mr. Destructo. I should have known, as he never stopped wriggling and flipping, nestling his tiny toes into my liver using and my internal organs to box. Being pregnant with Alex was a violent, violent act.
As a child, Alex just beats on things. He’s not destructive for the sake of destroying things, thankfully, but I worry one day that a well placed kick to a particular support beam will send my house into rubble. It wouldn’t have been on purpose, likely it would have been something that just sort of happened. Alex is Chris Farley in miniature form, frequently flinging his body onto the ground (or into a wall or something) just to make you laugh.
Ben is distractible, Alex is destructible.
The first of our carefully executed choices to be broken was the swing, which was Alex’s bed for the first 6 months of his life. It just…stopped working one day. Next to go was the bouncy seat, which somehow lost an entire screw somewhere along the lines from his constant movement. His crib is missing a couple of screws too, although they’ve been replaced, because he’s somehow managed to wriggle them loose as he flings himself at the mattress from a standing position.
And his high chair? ALSO missing some screws.
So. Yeah. Plan. B.
It was obvious Amelia wasn’t going to inherit anything from Alex save for the saucer toy.
Also obvious was my desire not to acknowledge that she’s growing up. Because while I simply couldn’t WAIT to stick spoonfuls of cereal and fruits into the screaming and indignant mouths of my boys, I’ve only half-heartedly tried Amelia on the cereals and fruit. She’s suitably underwhelmed with them all and I haven’t pushed it. I mean, she’s only a BABY after all, right Internet?
Except no, she’s 6 months old and ready, but getting her a high chair was not even a wee blip on my radar. She’s my last baby and I’m just not ready for her to grow up. It always annoyed me when people would tell me to savor it; it goes so fast, because dude, OBVIOUSLY.
But it does. It goes so, so fast.
(I did not have a digital camera back then and I do not have a scanner now, so I cannot add Ben at this age. Instead, I will show you a picture that will carefully show you what Ben thought about rice cereal)
I was cruelly serving Ben PIZZA.
Captain Destructo, himself.
Dude. Who knew Heaven was shaped like a Wagon Wheel?