See what I mean? That's a lot of kids. And not one of them old enough to pour his own milk yet.
But they are awfully cute, aren't they?
The past two weeks I've been writing posts in my head all day long. I have pictures to show you! Baby snapshot comparisons to make (Brennan looks like Silas as a newborn, and I have just the photo to prove it)! Only now I have no time - none, whatsoever - to post pictures or to finish a thought. So I'm just going to say what I can, even though I should technically poke at the baby and remind him it's time to eat. If I don't steal a second I'll never get one at all, and Missy assures me I'm not going to remember this (and she's so right!) so I'd better write it down.
Friends, it has been a crazy two weeks.
At this moment two weeks ago, I was sitting in this exact same spot in my bed, typing this post and timing contractions.
Since then we have had one birth (and, necessarily, one surgery), followed shortly by one major candy-laden holiday, one dislocated elbow while getting dressed for trick-or-treating, one hysterical toddler, two sad superheroes, and one blessed neighbor to redeem the night. A few days later we had a serious preschool-sized meltdown, followed immediately by two hours of a screaming gassy infant (he cannot tolerate me eating cheese - but yogurt is okay? Odd, but whatever), followed by the words every parent dreads - "I just threw up in my bed." Since then, we have had a malingering stomach bug, with a child randomly throwing up (or producing catastrophic diapers) every few nights.
And in between we've had company and casseroles and trips to the park and school and the never-ending but mostly fruitless efforts at sanitizing and washing linens (again) and quarantining the sick while placating the bored ... and oh yeah, we just brought a new baby home.
Which is to say, friends, we are exhausted.
And I've got the pictures to prove it.
Doesn't she look pitiful? I really thought she had re-injured her broken wrist from last spring, but alas, it was her elbow out of joint. They call it nursemaid's elbow, I think. She pulled it out of joint by trying to escape her monkey costume. The doctor popped it back in place, and now she is fine. But it made for an especially chaotic Halloween.
This is me, holding a sleeping Brennan. He looks peaceful. I look fried.
Happy ... what day is it?