Let me start off by saying life without a laptop is the absolute pits.
And since I'm supposed to be doing nothing but Nursing, Sleeping and Eating ( Lather. Rinse. Repeat.) and staying down as much as possible for two weeks, it complicates things a tad when you have to use a desktop. Not to mention the Wi-Fi receiver is messed up on Monk's computer (which I'm on at the moment) and I am travelling at dial up speed at the moment. Can we say hurry up and wait? Woo-hoo.
I tried to take a few minutes today to download and edit a few pictures for your viewing pleasure. This is usually not problematic. Today it was. After 30 minutes of messing with the desktop I was just too pooped to fidget with it and so I crawled back in bed to do some more baby snuggling.
It's good to have options.
As far as me getting a new laptop...well. I think my most amazing husband is going to get me one! Not sure when, but he realizes how beneficial it would be to my
And speaking of sordid details, the Birth Stor-ee is half done. I know, I know, y'all are saying, "half done? HALF done?". You only get one shot per kid at a birth story people, so I'm trying my best to like what I've done, but my brain is like my belly right now....a little flabby. My creative juices are more like creative cottage cheese. Not a pretty sight really. Besides, it's such a short birth story I'm trying to make it interesting with details. Details, people...details!! I promise I'll try to have it done no later than Monday. Depending on the mayhem. In that case, it may be by the time Charlie's two.
And now for some Postpartum Ponderings.
As I sit here typing, I am holding my new breast friend (and no, that's not a typo). And she is doing what she does best. Nursing. I let her do it as much and as often as she likes. Why? It's good for her and it's good for me. It's free exercise. I sit here and she burns all my calories. It's a two-fer. Bring on the Ding-Dongs! Relax, I'm kidding. I'm much more in the mood for Rice Krispie treats.
But while I nurse and hold this Bebe of mine, I'm forced to stop and take a reality check. And here is what I've found.
The reality of it is that I'm sitting here still wearing my clothes from yesterday. The clothes I slept in and then stayed in today as well. There is a spit up stain AND a baby poop stain on the front. The neckline stinks of spit up. This would be the same spit up that went all over my chest, rolling down into the front of my shirt, settling somewhere in my once clean nursing bra. Yesterday.
My teeth have not been brushed, nor has my hair, which is pulled back in a really bad bun type thing. I'm trying to recollect the last time I shaved my legs, but cannot. Dirty breast pads along with dirty diapers are littered next to my bed. I've already cleaned them up once today and yet her lies another fresh pile.
If I'm not mistaken, Hope and Olivia haven't been bathed since Saturday. That would be four, yes FOUR days ago. Let me tell y'all, they smell peachy. Their germs are strengthening their immune systems. Or so I like to think. Yea, that's it.
Life with six hasn't been easy (okay, technically five since My Boy is gone). It's been tiring and crazy. Mine and Monk's nerves have been pushed to the brink. And it's only been a week!
But amidst the crazy, messy, stained, smelly, tiring, sleep deprived chaos,guess what? I find joy. Yes, joy.
Joy in kissing newborn toes and cheeks. Joy in nuzzling my face into her sweet smelling neck. Joy in brushing my lips over her soft downy hair. Joy in watching her sleep and touching every feature on her tiny face while she does so.
Joy in watching my daughters fuss over who gets to hold Charlie. Joy in watching Hope demand her turn to hold the "Ba-Ba". Joy in Monk telling everyone it's his turn now. Joy in getting her back to myself even though she's literally attached to me probably 10 out of 24 hours every day. Joy in her fussing. Joy in changing poopy diapers. Joy in her rooting around to nurse. Joy in her spitting up all over me.
There's two things I've learned in seventeen years as a mother:
1. Time goes way too quickly. I've stopped wishing away my time with my children (I wish she'd sleep through the night, etc..). I blinked and My Boy was seventeen. I'd give anything to have a few days back with my 3 year old little guy. I want to enjoy the here and now. The Bible tells us we're not promised tomorrow and life is but a vapor (James 4:14). The older I get, the more those words mean to me. I'm perfectly happy in the miry days of spit up and breast pads. The here and now.
2.Things don't matter. Family and people matter. My relationship and time with my children mean more to me than a new sofa. The legacy I want to leave for them doesn't involve new cars or a spectacular home. It involves instilling in them a love for God, my love for them and the time I spent with them. I want their memories to be about us going to church and worshipping together, time spent playing games and momma roasting marshmallows to make s'mores by the fire. The more children I have, the less things matter.
My circumstances are as such that joy is not hard to find. Sleepless nights and sticky kitchen floors are inconsequential compared to what others are going through and have been through. I'm nothing special and am certainly not tooting my own horn because I'm finding joy with my sweet Charlie and our chaotic home right now. That's easy. Sissy stuff. Just reminding myself that the Bible talks a lot about joy and finding joy in all of our circumstances. So that's what I'm doing. I'm starting with the small things and training myself to find it in ALL things.
Philippians 4:4 Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.
I pray that you all have found your joy today.
Now if you kind people will excuse me, I'm going to go find some more joy in a nice, hot shower.