Week one

What a week! You know what's funny? The hardest part about all of this is not the lack of sleep (which has not really been that bad this time around), the endless diaper changes, the tantric baby positions designed to eliminate gas, or the nursing and more nursing. The part that has been the most emotionally and physically demanding is helping Sam adjust to his big brotherhood. To be clear, he has mostly been great. Any angst he feels is never directed at the baby. In fact, it's sort of like he's completely clueless that she is the source of what he's feeling. He is so loving with her, I have to keep him from diving in the basket or piling toys all over her. But, I see his stress in other ways. He has been off his feed and occasionally doesn't poop or pee all day, and (my favorite), he seems to have this little voice in his head that says things like, "Don't stab mommy in the foot with that fork. What? Stab mommy in the foot with that fork? What a good idea!" Basically, he seems subconsciously mad at me. I'm a big girl - I can take it - but I feel so bad for him. I have completely turned his world upside down, and he seems completely unaware of the cause beyond that life just doesn't feel right right now and he keeps stabbing me in the foot with forks and getting in trouble for it.

Other than that, I want a hut. I have told Mark that in some cultures women sit in a hut all day and are waited on hand and foot for a month while they recover from childbirth. He's not buying it, and is insisting that I go on these annoying walks every day. Fresh air, blegh. He's making me end this entry so that I can go to the hardware store with him with the promise that I can sit in the car. I mean, I did get to sit at home all day with Caroline while he and Sam went on some odyssey for a dehumidifier, so I suppose I should get out of the house. I lack the energy to be clever about this right now.