I haven't had the opportunity in the last few weeks to update my Netflix queue, so movies that I added over a year ago have finally worked their way to the top of the list. Unfortunately, this is not always good. Right after I brought Sully home, Psycho was waiting for me in the mailbox. Despite the line "A boy's best friend is his mother," it is not the best mother/son bonding movie I could have watched (though a good Halloween movie). Even worse was the day that Sophie's Choice arrived. That is not a movie I would recommend for any mom, but particularly not for a new mom with two small children. I would also not recommend Kramer vs. Kramer, which broke my heart in half before I ever had children.
So, Friday, October 26th has come and gone and instead of a newborn, I now have a 18-day-old infant. Every day I mean to post a new blog, but there just doesn't seem to be time. Between diaper changes and feedings, adjusting to new sleep schedules and mothering a three-year-old, I barely even have time to spend with Jeff. However, as sleep deprived as we all are, when we do spend time together, it is fun time, happy time. We've all managed to maintain our senses of humor. Jude is a big part of that, a funny, happy guy. When Jude decided to use my breast pump on his stomach, it was impossible not to laugh. When he comes running through the door saying "Sullivan, look what I can do!" it is impossible not to smile.
No one tells you, though, about the darker side of mothering. The total, disorienting lack of sleep. The unflattering nicknames you assign to your tiny spawn. (Though Sullivan started out as "Pumpkin" and "Sweetie," now, more often than not, I call him "Farty Bootie." That name really explains itself. Jude, who even as a baby would never stay still, was called "Fidget the Midget.") No one told me that after hours spent watching The Wiggles, I would start to have inappropriate dreams about them. And no one mentioned how it would break my heart to see my older child cling to his father because I have a baby constantly attached to me. This morning, though, Jude climbed onto the couch next to us (as we watched The Wiggles, the hot, hot, naughty Wiggles) and asked me to rub his back and as I did, I cried because for a few moments he was my little boy again.
As promised, here is a photo or two of the baby:
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