Sometimes he walks away, having been told many times already that "mommy is feeding Oliver right now, I'll be able to help you soon."
Sometimes Elijah wants to watch TV, the same first minute of Yo Gabba Gabba over and over and over again.
Sometimes he wants me play basketball with him; surely I can multitask.
Sometimes I will be rocking Oliver and shushing him to sleep. Elijah will come over and smile at us, his body blocking my ability to rock. A few times he's even crawled into the chair with us and I rock and hold both boys while I think about how ridiculously blessed we are, all the while trying to protect Oliver from his brother's long legs.
And for the past month or so, little Oliver will watch his big brother with great interest. Weeks ago, sitting in my lap, with my hand under his chin, little Oliver smiled at his brother for one of the very first times.
My eyes filled with tears.
I cried because it was so very sweet.
I cried for Elijah because he was unable to notice his little brother's smile.
And I cried for Oliver because his big brother was unable to respond.
And this is the truth I knew long before Oliver was ever in my belly: parenting our two children is going to be bittersweet. Thankfully, the sweetness overrides the bitter so much so that we usually can't even taste the bitter.
...And then Elijah employs his "no thank you" gesture, which is a push away, and tells us that he's done with his brother being in his face and pushes his brother away.
Oh, brother. This is going to be an interesting ride indeed.