Day 4 of life with 4 kids ages 4 and under...
Here is how my 4th day with 4 kids ages 4 and under started...
In anticipation of being woken up by the baby every hour for feedings, I went to bed early the night before (around 8:45pm). Despite those hourly feedings, my day started out with a bang at midnight when I woke up to find that both my nursing bra and the towel I had put on my bed were both soaking wet with milk. At 5:45am my 19 month old decided it was time to wake up (apparently he didn’t get the memo that Mama had a newborn). Although I don’t ever go and get him until 7:30am, his babbling in his crib was enough to keep me from being able to go back to sleep. I decided to take a nice hot shower instead. About 5 minutes into the shower the baby wakes up and starts crying. So much for the relaxing shower! I dry off, nurse the baby back to sleep, and then start looking for clothes to wear to the bible study I was going to that morning. Between being engorged and having to wear breast shells for nursing, I looked ridiculous in every shirt I try on (picture an overweight, low-budget Madonna impersonator). Meanwhile, the hospital pads I have to wear sound like diapers as I walk between the closet and the mirror. Oh well, at least it was a women’s bible study I was going to.
I went downstairs for some breakfast and started to check my email. Within minutes my 19 month old grew impatient in his crib and started crying, which in turns woke up the baby. I headed back upstairs to go get her and suddenly realized that my post-delivery laxative had finally kicked in. The baby would have to wait. I headed to the bathroom and as I pulled down my hospital-issued mesh underwear, milk poured out of both of my breast shells, soaking my last clean nursing bra and the least-ridiculous-looking shirt I had eventually picked out to wear. Darn it. I finished my bathroom duties (or perhaps I should say doodies), thanked God for stool softeners, and headed to the sink to wash out my breast shells. As I was doing so I had milk dripping from both breasts onto my feet. Lovely. I get myself cleaned up, tend to the baby, and then find another outfit to wear. I look in the mirror and conclude there is no way I am leaving the house without some make-up to at least attempt to cover the bags under my eyes. I throw on some tinted moisturizer and mascara and realize it’s finally time to get my 19 month old out of his crib and make breakfast for my three oldest children before heading out to bible study. It’s only 7:30am and I’m already ready to either laugh or cry at the insanity that is my life. Today I chose to laugh
*NOTE: This was almost 3 weeks ago and things have definitely gotten better. Thank goodness Paul was home that afternoon to give me a break from the madness! :)
In anticipation of being woken up by the baby every hour for feedings, I went to bed early the night before (around 8:45pm). Despite those hourly feedings, my day started out with a bang at midnight when I woke up to find that both my nursing bra and the towel I had put on my bed were both soaking wet with milk. At 5:45am my 19 month old decided it was time to wake up (apparently he didn’t get the memo that Mama had a newborn). Although I don’t ever go and get him until 7:30am, his babbling in his crib was enough to keep me from being able to go back to sleep. I decided to take a nice hot shower instead. About 5 minutes into the shower the baby wakes up and starts crying. So much for the relaxing shower! I dry off, nurse the baby back to sleep, and then start looking for clothes to wear to the bible study I was going to that morning. Between being engorged and having to wear breast shells for nursing, I looked ridiculous in every shirt I try on (picture an overweight, low-budget Madonna impersonator). Meanwhile, the hospital pads I have to wear sound like diapers as I walk between the closet and the mirror. Oh well, at least it was a women’s bible study I was going to.
I went downstairs for some breakfast and started to check my email. Within minutes my 19 month old grew impatient in his crib and started crying, which in turns woke up the baby. I headed back upstairs to go get her and suddenly realized that my post-delivery laxative had finally kicked in. The baby would have to wait. I headed to the bathroom and as I pulled down my hospital-issued mesh underwear, milk poured out of both of my breast shells, soaking my last clean nursing bra and the least-ridiculous-looking shirt I had eventually picked out to wear. Darn it. I finished my bathroom duties (or perhaps I should say doodies), thanked God for stool softeners, and headed to the sink to wash out my breast shells. As I was doing so I had milk dripping from both breasts onto my feet. Lovely. I get myself cleaned up, tend to the baby, and then find another outfit to wear. I look in the mirror and conclude there is no way I am leaving the house without some make-up to at least attempt to cover the bags under my eyes. I throw on some tinted moisturizer and mascara and realize it’s finally time to get my 19 month old out of his crib and make breakfast for my three oldest children before heading out to bible study. It’s only 7:30am and I’m already ready to either laugh or cry at the insanity that is my life. Today I chose to laugh
*NOTE: This was almost 3 weeks ago and things have definitely gotten better. Thank goodness Paul was home that afternoon to give me a break from the madness! :)
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