I had planned to write a nice delicious slice of life post with info and pictures and recipes (HAHAHA YEAH RIGHT) but instead I am hammering this out quick-style as L takes his turn bouncing/rocking/humming/walking Max around the house while he gritches and fusses through a particularly hairy patch of the witching hour. This is highly unusual for him—he’s been a super chill, no-fuss baby so far, which I gotta say: I DIG.
I have been itching to get some words up here on this screen, though, so I may blog again tomorrow while the bigs are in school/camp. What can I say, my dreams are lofty. Briefly though: things are fabulous. I love this baby like whoa, and am finally (FINALLY) feeling semi-normal after two weeks of ridiculous, could-have-been-avoided-for-reasons-that-make-me-get-up-on-a-soap-box infections that left me wrung out. My mom went home and then came back to help a second time (which, I gotta say, is awesome, but I would not really recommend ER visits and double body part infections as a ploy for getting your mom to stay longer and help after a baby. Pro tip: crying works just fine.) And really, though it’s only been 24 hours since we’ve been just the five of us figuring out our rhythms, I feel like we’re kind of kicking ass so far. I know, I know, just wait everyone says in unison, but seriously. I mean check it: today I cut Noah’s hair, Rosie’s and Max’s fingernails, and L cut the grass. I mopped the kitchen floor, took two of the three kids to the grocery store and didn’t yell at anyone the whole day not even one time. (Of course, an awesome and nutritious dinner was brought to us by someone else, so we didn’t have to plan for that part of the day, but, you know, details.) That, my friends, seems like a winning day to me. Now, we’ll have to revisit the whole “we’re kicking ass” comment when we have a baby who isn’t sleeping 22 out of the 24 hours of the day.