The Ultimate Cheese

I feel like if you admit something you do is cheesy, it becomes less cheesy, and therefore cool again.  Whether this is true or not, it's what I'm telling myself and it makes me feel better. So this is my confession...

There comes a point in my day, after saying goodbye to the little ones I watch, where I'm just done. I've changed all the diapers I can change, fed all the kids I can feed, and stopped as many tears as I can without crying myself.  It's usually at this point in the day when Karter is his fussiest.  He just has this sixth sense about him, as I am sure most kids do, and he knows when I am most drained and decides to turn on the water works.  At this point, I realize we've played with the trucks 50x that day, tasted every book once and moved the bar stool to carpeted ground so it can longer move.  I find myself with limited options to make my fussy boy happy enough to last until bed time.

This is where the cheese comes in.  Not real cheese, mind you.  I pack up a bag, put on his hat and grab the blanket and head out the front door to wait underneath one of our trees by the driveway until Mark gets home. There's something magical for Karter about going outside and knowing that "dada" (though he still refuses to say it) is on his way.  For some reason, this time with Karter is pretty 'magical' for me as well, and I get a little caught up in my obsession for him and his cuteness.  We giggle, we play and sometimes  we he eats sticks.  I sometimes forget that we are on display for the neighbors to see, and the 938670 cars passing by on their way home, and I don't care. 

Mark soon joins us as he rolls in the drive and Karter excitedly kicks his feet.  There we all sit on the blanket laughing, talking and enjoying each other.  This is probably when the neighbors start throwing up a little in their mouths thinking "why can't they just take this inside?"  I feel as though it appears that we are fake enjoying each other, putting on a show to reassure the neighbors that we really are happy.  But it's not a show.  We really are happy.  It's cheesy and probably annoying to some who look out the window.  But I don't care.  It sure beats staying inside wiping pieces of paperback book off Karter's chin for the hundredth time that day....