I have a new son!

My life with a newborn:

– The crying in the middle of the night.

– The getting up out of bed and trying to figure out what baby wants in the middle of the night.

– The energy that is zapped out of you from lack of sleep. Wonder how it’s possible to care for other 2 children during day.

– Napping when baby naps (and if older children let you).

– Preparing “meals” for baby and other children

– Timing feedings. Timing pee and poops.

– Getting baby dressed. Getting baby dressed again when they spoil on their shirt.

– Taking over an hour to give baby a bath.

– Taking about two hours to “make sure you have everything” to leave the house for the pumpkin patch with baby.

– Changing diapers

– Don’t have time for “me” time. The only “me” time is in the shower – if I’m lucky to get one.

– Begging the 5 year old to help mommy out. Praying the 2 year old doesn’t hurt baby.

– Getting baby to the many doctor appts.

This baby is a little different. This baby boy is 30 years old. My husband morphed into this newborn thing after ACL surgery.

I’m running this ship, for the most part, alone. It’s hard and tiring. 3 kids. Whew. I don’t know how those single moms of 3 + do it. They deserve a medal.

This ACL surgery is no joke. Scott is on (although, he’s tapered himself off) heavy duty pain meds. He has an ice bucket that runs cold water around his knee; the ice bucket needs to be changed with new ice every 4  hours. He needs everything brought to him – meds, food, water, snacks, remote control, computer. He has physical therapy. He has doctor appts. Showers take at least an hour with my help. I even had to help him pee for the first few days. I have to watch him around stairs. I have to block Kate from getting too aggressive with daddy’s knee. I have to help him dress his knee. I have to help him get dressed. He cries out in pain the mornings. He does the God-forbidding waking me up at 3 am wanting water or meds or help to bathroom.

The only thing I’m glad not to be doing is taking care of a circumcision. And breast feeding. And this baby didn’t give me an extra 20 pounds to lose.

I want my happy, (somewhat) helpful husband back and this newborn-energy-zapping-son to go away.

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