On 9/26/04 at 9:26 a.m. I gave birth to my third and final child, Jack. It was quite the morning. Waking up at 4:30, feeling the contractions, watching Payton Place (such a trashy movie) until I knew it was time to go. Woke up husband and off we went. I got into that hospital at 7:30 and had him two hours later. Eager to come out, I guess. Here he is…

Yeah so I was always ready to get out of the hospital with my baby before, right? Not this time. No, I knew what I had in store for me. A husband who worked long hours, a pre-teen son and a twenty month old daughter who was already proving herself to be quite the diva. I loaded up Jack after a blissed out, peaceful stay at the hospital with drugs and cranberry juice at my beck and call.

(Damn if that kid doesn’t still like that binky. I know, I know, he’s three! He’s only using it at night, I swear)

We brought Jack home and here was the result. It wasn’t pretty.

She eventually got over it. Kinda. She still has her moments. But really, she loves her brother. Takes care of him, fights with him, mothers him, the works. They’re sweet together. Most of the time.

Shit there’s the binky! Well, his preschool teacher said he won’t go to college with it so I shouldn’t sweat it. She’s right. I think.

Happy Birthday Jack!