One Month Later

Yesterday was Eva's one-month birthday. My kids are a little disappointed that we didn't celebrate with cake and presents. Daisy is particularly baffled by Eva's age. We've had this conversation more times than I can count:

Daisy: Mom, how old is Eva?

Me:                   weeks.

Daisy: But how old is she?

Me:                   weeks!!!

Daisy: So, is she one?

Me: No. She doesn't have years yet. Just weeks.

Daisy (yelling): I JUST WANT TO KNOW HOW OLD SHE IS!

Me: Daisy, she is                  weeks old.

Daisy (yelling): SO? WHO CARES? 

(90% of the conversations I have with Daisy end with her yelling at me and saying "So?" "Who cares?" "I don't have to listen to you!" "You're the stupidest!" or "Says who?" Her newest thing is, "I'm going to kill you!" which is just greeeeaaaaat!)

In all, things are going exceptionally well. There are some challenges, too. For example, on Thursday I went to Sam's Club, and I needed to buy quite a few things. I wore Eva in a carrier on my chest to free up space in the cart. Zoe did okay sitting in the cart for all of five minutes before she started doing downward dog on the seat (You guys! This is insane! She does it all the time. She puts her feet up on the backrest and her hands are on the shopping cart handle. It is so, so dangerous! And such a battle to get her down from that position!) Eventually - like, as soon as the cart was so full that I could barely steer it - Zoe started a huge cling-to-my-legs tantrum. I tried everything I could think of to not have to pick her up, but she ended up running to the front of the shopping cart and parking herself there so I couldn't go anywhere. The logical explanation of, "You're going to get run over!" wasn't effective, so I had to walk around the cart, pick her up, put her on my hip, and push the dang cart to the register. But, of course, Zoe couldn't just sit calmly while I carried her. She had to flop forward and start flailing her arms and legs while I held her around the waist, still maneuvering the cart and hoping Zoe didn't kick or hit the baby on my chest. Then at the register, I had to put her down, which resulted in more leg-clinging, while I tried to load everything on the conveyor belt. The entire thing was ridiculous, and yet, that is my life right now. Every trip out of the house results in something just.like.that.

I have come to terms with the fact that my life is utter chaos, so even though I often want to pull my hair out, I am coping well overall.

In honor of being one month post-partum, here are a few things to celebrate:

Thing 1: I have energy again! Most people with a newborn would be described as sleep-deprived. I don't feel that way at all. I might, in fact, be sleep-deprived, but it's nothing compared to the fatigue I experienced during pregnancy. I can do so many more things in a day now than I could a month ago. 

Thing 2: Food tastes good again! And with that, I have been meal-planning and cooking again, and I love it. The only problem is that I feel like I have to make up for nine months worth of taste aversion by eating ALL THE THINGS!

Thing 3: I have a little bit of bladder control! I can sneeze, cough, and jump (to a minimum) without... you know...

Thing 4: I can take ibuprofen. Other than the two I took in the hospital, I haven't needed any ibuprofen for anything, but there's something so freeing about being eligible for it.

Thing 5: The Crazy is gone. I was very fortunate to only have two weeks of psychotic hormonal episodes. Actually, it was less than two weeks. I remember waking up one day and suddenly feeling "normal." I counted the number of days it had been, and it was day 12. I didn't think I was going to stay normal (I just assumed I was having a good day), but I've been fine ever since.

Thing 6: I can stay awake past 9:00 p.m.

Thing 7: I can shave my legs, paint my toenails, and buckle my strappy sandals.

Thing 9: I don't have to keep my grabber by my side at all times (don't get me wrong, I still use my grabber regularly because it is awesome! But I can also bend over and pick something up the old-fashioned way if I need to).

Thing 10: I haven't had any dreams about David Spade.