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.