Blather

Hey look! I remember this. This is that spot I used to regularly come to write down my every little obnoxious thought and deed. I think I even maybe enjoyed it from time to time. Of course, that was before I had a demanding chubby-cheeked infant attached to me expecting to be fed all. the. damn. time.
There is a reason that at 6 weeks she weighs 10 lbs and I think that despite what she may be telling the other babies it isn't that I don't feed her.
She's actually a pretty easy going baby. It's just that if she's awake she's hungry.
Lately she's been taking the occasional break to smile at me and coo a little. And spit up. Or fart.
Remember how much of a freak I was about strangers touching my pregnant belly? To my credit, I only tried to bite one person and touched 2 of them back. The rest just got snapped at.
See, I thought that was the worst thing that would happen. I thought that once I gave birth, the inappropriate touching would end. But then I'm an idiot and of course it didn't.
No, I sort of miss the belly touching phase because at least then there was a barrier between some stranger's germ-ridden hand and my baby.
In an effort to not have a coronary in public, I generally let it slide as long as they don't touch her face or hands. But I draw the line at the woman who tried to stick her finger in Josie's mouth. All I could keep picturing was that woman scratching her ass and now here she was trying to shove that ass-digger in my little baby's mouth!
Freak.
So. Lesson learned: As bad as it is to touch a pregnant woman's belly, sticking your ass-digging-finger anywhere near baby's mouth may result in the mom loudly telling you to keep said ass-finger to yourself and then having anyone within earshot give you bug-eyes.
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Once upon a time I had a rather nice figure. I wasn't scary skinny. I had curves but was well within my healthy weight range. Even after my first baby, returning to said lovely shape was truly effortless. Such is the benefit of being terribly young and stupid.
Now....
It was only a few weeks ago that I was proudly displaying that baby bump. Even sharing that picture here. I loved that round full belly. I couldn't see my shoes, my back ached and I knocked things over. But I loved it. There is something about it that is simply beautiful.
Since she's been born? I won't even look at myself in the mirror unless I am fully clothed. And there is something really wrong with that. It doesn't help that none of my clothes fit anymore. It doesn't help that I know exactly how much I weigh and exactly how much more that is than when I had my first.
I try not to contemplate it too much as that is simply depressing. As is the realization that I can no longer buy a bra in a store because they don't stock them that big. No, I get to order mine on-line and hope that they'll maybe somehow shrink overnight. Like, maybe if I close my eyes, they'll return to a size more suitable for a human being. One who has not had a boob job. Yet.

Adjusting

Josie is a month old today though it seems that she has always been here. But I think that's the way it is with kids. At least for me, once they are here it seems as though they have always been. As though who I was before, that life is so far from where we are as to not matter. And it doesn't. I'm sure I'm not explaining myself well.
This month has been hectic. Josie's birth, my parents visit, my grandfather died (it's ok, really. We'd been expecting it and he was ready. He missed my grandmother so very much), school started, Bre's cheerleading started (and someone please slap me because I somehow agreed to co-coach and I can't even blame it on Newborn Stupor since I agreed before she was even born) and my job as PTA treasurer has started to kick in.
In the midst of all this, our house has never been so peaceful. It seems that we have all found a softer side and even David, with his love of screaming, has taken to speaking in whispery tones around his baby sister.
This is not to say all is rosy in our world. Bre is still 9 going on 30 and is in serious need of an attitude transplant. David tried to give Josie away at the grocery store but the next day he pushed a little girl who got to close to her (in his opinion) and declared Josie to be his baby.
Josie has finally reached a point where I can put her down for an hour here and there to get things done. Her cheeks have filled out in that perfectly plump, begging to be squeezed way of an infant who loves to eat. And she certainly loves to eat. A lot.
She coos. She has for over a week now. Someone told us she wasn't supposed to do that yet but I don't think she really cares about time lines because she has been smiling at us too. She still snorts.
David is utterly fascinated by her one moment and absolutely bored with her the next.
Her toys, however, are a different matter.
We are adjusting. Always adjusting.
I am reveling in this period of quiet contentment.