My baby is 3 days old. We move in 2 days. Things are...busy.
Bill left me and the girls and the baby on Sunday afternoon. George was about 9 hours old. They delivered our stuff on Monday morning and unpacked the kitchen boxes after lunch. Bill took care of any essential tasks and located a few things that had been accidentally or thoughtlessly taken down - the camelback Fritz needs for Philmont and a cooler for whatever food we think we can avoid throwing away - and returned home before midnight. I know he loves me. He's a good man.
People have been jumping through hoops for us to get us the appointments we need so we don't have to stay here past Friday. I do appreciate it, even though it may seem I have an attitude of but, of course.
Before amnesia fully sets in, I have to state, for the record, that natural childbirth is TOTALLY OVERRATED. I'll be singing a different tune in a year, but for now, I tell you, drugs, even epidurals, are wonderful, wonderful things. And no, I did not have any.
Driving home from the pediatrician yesterday, Bill mentioned we'd not be here for any more Sunday Masses. I started crying. Moving and saying goodbye plus baby blues is a really bad combination.
I'll blog more when I can. Here are two pictures taken right after I got home. George is about 7 hours old. He is gorgeous. Mama and Dad are exhausted. Older siblings are thrilled.