Two Weeks and Counting

Yesterday marked two weeks of Baby O as a family member. She's doing fine, and Quinn is handling the changes nicely. Daddy is taking care of everyone. I am taking care of O. I forgot that initial breastfeeding isn't like when they're 6 months and know how to plug themselves in during the night. You know, do it so that we both mostly sleep through it? Right now I am still trying to teach this little one that feeding lying down is the best way, but right now, she is only a master of the football hold.

The other thing is that, with Q, I remember feeding him and then passing him to the husband for diaper changes and for settling him back to sleep. But now that the husband is on full time toddler duty, and therefore toddler breakfast duty (actually, the husband has always done breakfast, great guy that he is), I feel more responsibility to take on the nighttime stuff since I know I can't deal with Q's morning routine and be up at night. That extra time, of changing the diaper and trying to settle her back down? It adds up to a lot less sleep.

These complaints are minor. I know we're lucky to be a zombified state of exhaustion because baby O is here. And honestly, despite all of this, including still recovering from the delivery and the sore boobs and other physical complaints, I am so glad I am not longer pregnant and I am so happy to have O. Just sleeping on my back is a miracle of miracles.

We woke up one morning to O squawking in her little crib in our room, and right as I got on my elbows to see what the fuss was about, Quinn overturned a laundry basket spreading dirty clothes all over. He then put the lightweight basket over his head giggling uncontrollably the whole time. As this was happening, Man's Best Friend decided she heard some prowlers and decided to bark her head off. It was 6am and the husband and I just started laughing.I think I said something about monkeys running the asylum.

I'm not complaining. This is what we signed up for.