the rhythm of things

Here we are, two weeks into it!  I feel like I should get a reward at the end of each day - something extravagant like diamond earrings or a John Deere gator.  My cousin (who has one little boy) called and asked "Is it crazy?  Like, can you do it?"  And I answered with a mighty "Yes!"

Of course it can be done, because it has to be done.  I have no other choice - I have two children that need fed, bathed, tucked into bed, played with and kissed on.  It's the greatest gift God could have given me.  There are a few hundred moments during the day when I don't see it as a gift, when all I can think about is how tired I am or how sick I am of whipping out my boobs, but the end of the day when they're both sound asleep in their beds and I have Jeff by my side, that's when it feels like a gift.

I'm thankful that we were all able to get outside the other night, even if just for a few minutes.  It wasn't windy, the sun was out and the temperature was mild enough for my wee one to sit snuggly in the carrier.  If I'm being honest, besides the sleep deprivation, not being able to go outside and play with Patrick has been the hardest part of having a new baby.  We love being outside and would spend an upwards of three hours outside on a given day, rain or shine.  Obviously a fragile little one can't bear the elements like my tank of a two-year-old, so it's been put on hold until he gets a little bigger.

For the most part, Connor has been such a wonderful baby.  Up until yesterday he had been sleeping most of the day, breaking to eat of course, and sleeping almost four hour stretches at night.  (A good swaddle is the difference between a half hour and three hours for this kid).  I've also been able to nap most days since both Patrick and Connor have been going down for naps at noon.  I seriously owe every minute of sleep to the Fisher Price Rock n' Play Sleeper - greatest invention ever.  (Although we'll only keep him in there a couple more weeks).

One huge accomplishment is that I broke my breastfeeding record!  A whole 13 days with Patrick has been trumped.  Even though I never considered nursing Patrick "hard," it's really been a breeze with Connor.  I let him nurse to contentment on one side and then offer the other (which he typically takes).  The pain and soreness from the first week has worn off, as well as any engorgement.  Unfortunately they're still the size of watermelons which makes for my new love on non-maternity clothes not so fun.  Connor hit the first growth spurt in the last 12 hours and he's been eating every hour and a half (OMG).  Because of a couple bouts of gas/tummy aches/digestive issues, I'm really having to watch what I eat.  As of now I am avoiding all chocolate (and anything else with caffeine) and peanut butter, although I doubt that has anything to do with the issue.  I'm just going with my gut on these things.  No pun intended.

I'm thinking of busting out the pump this week to start storing milk for when I go on a hot date to the local tavern with my hubs back to work.  I despise pumping - it's so unnatural and I feel like an alien with those shields on.  Patrick is going to be like Mom, catch the next rocket to Venus.  But when it comes down to it, I absolutely have to see Catching Fire on the 22nd (no ifs, ands or buts) and therefore have twelve days to make sure I have milk stored and that Connor can take a bottle.

So there you have it.  My maternity leave in a nutshell.  Nursing every two hours, playing "Dump the Load of Corn" with Patrick and looking forward to that beautiful glass of wine at the end of each day.