A Whole New World

The honeymoon's over. Yesterday was David's first day back at his desk job.

That means it was my first day back at my non-couch-sitting, non-bon-bon-eating job. I truly have been spoiled this whole month since Charlie was born.

It's been a whole month?!?!

Time flies when your husband does all the dishes, completely doesn't mind when you sleep in indiscriminately, and tells you you're awesome and beautiful and everything good at least once a day, even when you know you're smelly, flabby and entirely lazy.

I braced myself for the worst yesterday, being on my own with the three little boys, but it was fine. Good, even. A day of nice surprises, in fact...

The boys (including the baby) didn't wake up until almost 9 a.m.

Henry took a two hour nap in the afternoon.

I established a nice pump/breastfeed routine that is helping me not HURT every time the milk truck comes, and I hope it will also help me transition nicely into my school schedule in a couple months.

I braved Target. Calvin and Henry were completely out of control, but I didn't let myself care. We made it out alive, and the baby didn't wake up.

My friend Elizabeth stopped by with a gift of fresh strawberries and blueberries - the boys were ecstatic and it was so nice to have someone just check in for a minute.

This gift came in the mail from David's sister. I love the whimsical, childlike drawing and the bright colors. But the words on it made me smile - and cry. It says, "I always wanted to invent something that would move around and make funny noises and change the world as we know it and I forgot all about that until we had kids and now I see I came pretty close."

This whole month I have had the luxury of being completely googoo over my new baby. And to marvel over my other two boys. They changed the world as I knew it. And I kinda like this new world...

Where you tell a 4-year-old millions of times to not pick his nose and the one time he finally understands is apparently the time you told him not to do it at church, because the next time you tell him not to pick his nose (at home on a Monday) , he says, "But why? It's not Sunday."

Where the same 4-year-old gets all worked up that "zero" is the number of the day on Sesame Street. "How can zero be the number of the day?! It's nothing! If you have zero, you don't have anything to count! It can't be a number!" (Ten good minutes of this tirade against zero, the non-number...)

Where nothing pleases the 3-year-old more than a mid-day snuggle down to naptime. And a popsicle every hour.

Where I have to beg them to eat what's on their plate, and they beg to eat what's on mine (and none of it is anything different!). And where I will never have an ice cream cone, a Coke, or even leftover casserole to myself ever again.

Where I feel like an eight cow woman, not just by the way my husband treats me, but by the amount of milk I can produce.

Where I start writing a simple post at 9:08 a.m. and don't actually finish it and post it until 4:32 p.m. because there are kids to feed, babies to nurse, naps to take, friends to visit with, toys to pick up, story books to read, puzzles to help with...

Where I'm perfectly happy looking at this pretty much all night long:

So maybe the honeymoon goes on. Or maybe I'm cheating the postpartum havoc-wreaker this time around (third time's a charm!). Or maybe I've learned to chill just a little and take it as it comes. Or maybe the world has just gotten a little more funny and sweet.