And Then There Were Three

Things are different. The way that we wake up in the morning, the way that we read our stories, the way that we stack our blocks.

Mom doesn't make pancakes everyday, like she used to. Charlie has to walk down the stairs like a big boy. And big sister Eleanore has to put down her favorite storybook, sometimes at the very best part- to be the big helper that Mommy and Daddy so desperately need.



First it was Eleanore.

Then Eleanore and Charlie.

And now- Eleanore, Charlie, and Evelyn.



The entire summer was spent wondering what life would be like after our new baby was born. What would she look like, how would her cry sound, and most of all- how would her brother and sister adjust?

The answers are slowly starting to develop.
Every day we learn something new.

She has strawberry blond hair, dark blue eyes, and her cries are heard so little that when they do sing out- we can't help but smile.

And as for how the older siblings are adjusting, well...



Its a struggle.
The struggle is out of love, we know, but still- its a struggle.

They fight for Mommy and Daddy's attention, "just 5 more minutes in the spotlight, please!" they beg.

The struggles are streaked with curiosity about this little baby that doesn't yet know how to play Ring Around The Rosies.

Or talk.

Or blow kisses.



The middle child is taking the hardest hit of them all, having gone from being the baby, to... the big brother.

The sadness in his screams of jealousy are enough to break a Mama's heart.

But at the same time, when the first words out of his mouth in the morning are "Evelyn June", how could we have ever doubted that this was the right thing to do?



Daddy has two hands.
And he'll always have time to pick up and put back binkys.



While Eleanore is loving all of her "special big helper" responsibilities- brushing Evelyn's hair, helping put on her socks, watching her closely while Mommy gets up to get a glass of water...

Charlie is missing the days of snuggling in Mommy's empty lap, and sitting on Mommy's hip while going from place to place.

It'll get better, baby, I promise.
My hip is still here for you.
You just have to share it with your little sister.



Between the adjustments and the acting out-

We see the love so clearly.



And this is how it was meant to be.



A great big thank you to our friend Whitney , for making our family these adorable matching shirts.

My New Normal

I smell like sour milk!

The other day, when it was 100 degrees outside and our air conditioner was broken, while my husband was off working the first of many 12 hour shifts, while I was attempting to go to the bathroom with a baby strapped to my chest (you've done it too, right?)- I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

Holy, crap.

That woman- the one with pit stains that go down to her knees, the one that smells like somebody threw up all over her (because somebody probably did)... yeah thats me.

Maybe you need a close up of the hair? ...


Theres baby poop in my ponytail!

Thats what it looks like when bobby pins have been piling up in a hair-like grease nest for 4 days.

You read that right. FOUR days.

Its not that I'm trying not to take a shower, because just thinking about hot water and soap, as I type this, puts a big imagining-being-pampered smile on my face. Between feeding two toddlers, a newborn (who has yet to learn what a bottle is- and I like it that way), a sasquatch, and on occasion- myself... somehow, the word "shower" gets forgotten. Personal hygiene altogether. The dishes need to get loaded into the washer. Somebody has to pick up the umbilical cord stump thats been laying on the floor for the past 3 days. And what is that smell? ...oh right. Again, its me.

Taking care of 5 people, is hard y'all!
My mom pointed out that I need to include myself, in the head count.

At least I remembered to put my glasses on today, instead of leaving them beside the bathroom sink, and then wondering why my eyes refuse to focus on anything more than 5 feet in front of me.

Maybe you need a full body shot? So you can see my pajamas-gone-uniform? Try not to be jealous...


I can't leave the house, because you can see my striped underwear straight through my thin floral print bottoms!

At least theres toilet paper on the roll, right? Clearly, my priorities are all exactly where they need to be *heavy on the sarcasm*.

I did get a shower though, a couple hours later. You can only be spit up and pooped on so many times before you crack under the smell pressure, and give in to glycerin products. The minute that Christopher walked in the door, while still in his uniform, having just worked that previously mentioned 12 hour shift- I handed off the baby, gave instructions on what to do should the oven beep, and disappeared for almost an entire hour- spending most of that time shaving my legs that hadn't been touched by anyone or anything other than anti blood clotting leg braces, for the past 3 weeks.

I have a feeling my jeans are going to stay on the out-of-reach closet shelf for a very long time, at the rate I'm going.

And while I know it sounds like I'm nothing but complaints, I wouldn't trade the mold growing on my unintentional dreadlocks for fresh air and adult interaction, even if you payed me.

Ok maybe if you payed me.