Restricted Area. Authorized children only beyond this point.

I love that first night in the hospital after you have given birth.

When all the visitors go home and it’s just you and the baby.

You never get that time alone again where your only responsibility is to bond with your baby, feed him or her, and spend as much time as you want just looking at how awesome he or she is.

I always had the baby stay in the hospital room with me.

Right next to my bed.

But it wasn’t actually so awesome with Number 4.

In that whole nature vs. nurture thing, the nature component sure is evident right off the bat.

Straight out of the gate, Number 4 was a serious handful.

To be totally honest, she sucked.

That first night in the hospital she hardly slept.

Unless I was holding her, that is.

But as soon as I put her in that little hospital bassinet, she would go completely psycho.

I had to hold her pretty much the whole first night.

I didn’t want to tell anyone.

I mean, newborns are supposed to chow down and then pass out for a couple hours.

Even if they are colicky, that shit doesn’t usually set in for a couple weeks.

I thought I was doing something wrong.

So I came home from the hospital with Number 4 and I was already exhausted.

And it’s been that way ever since.

6 years of total exhaustion.

She’s one of those kids who really needs physical activity.

The more active she is, the better her behavior is.

And vice versa.

Swim team has been over now for about 4 weeks.

I need to get her back in the pool.

Because she is sucking the life out of me.

I thought having a serious talk with her after she swiped 110 bucks out of her father’s wallet would have set her straight.

At least for like,

a day.

I guess I was wrong.

I sent her off to school yesterday morning wearing a winter jacket and a winter hat.

But when she got off the bus?

She was wearing a t shirt.

And an Easter bonnet.

I was going to go eat lunch with her at school once this Lose to Win thing is over.

But at this point I’m kind of scared to be seen by any staff member in that building.

Instead, I think I might use that time to set up a TSA checkpoint at the front door of my house.

It’s time to beef up the security.

Once she passes the underwear check, the mascara check,  is frisked for money, and her backpack is scanned for Easter bonnets and other banned substances and paraphernalia…

…then I’ll let her out the door.

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