Editor’s note: Atomic Family has gone back in time a bit to May 2012 when our humor columnist Rachel Reiff Ellis gave birth to her third child, Max. We’ll be posting her blog entries as essays for Hump Day Humor.

Exactly seven days ago, Max looked like this:

Now at one week on the planet, he is a wizened, aged soul with much to tell about his adventures in the great Rooms of Living and Bed and Occasionally Kitchen. Observe his amazing transformation:

In other news, recovery is going … slowly. I am trying not to be discouraged by it (in retrospect, it seems like I was bounding around the town by now, grocery shopping, moving furniture, training for triathlons with week-old babies in tow) but the truth is the reason it’s taking longer than it did the other two times is that I am older. So I should just be able to observe that logic and say, “Ah yes! That’s logical!” but logic aside, the reason is still just: Dude, I’m Old.

I tried yesterday to wean off my prescription-strength ibuprofen pills, thinking it’s been a week, woman, shake it off already, but yeah: Nuh-uh. I hobbled around the house at a snail’s pace all morning and whimpered through a shower before caving in to the tiny white pill master. Not time yet, grasshopper. Luckily my mom has been here since last Monday, doing all the things (no, but ALL the things. Thanks a million, Mom!) and so I have a chance to rest on the couch watching copious amounts of Netflix, but there are still other things that get in the way of full recovery, like, you know, getting up to feed a baby every two hours of the night (or 45 minutes, if he’s in the mood to par-tay!) and all the accompanying discomfort that brings to the chest-icle area. (The air! Why does it have to be so heavy!)

But in equally relevant news, I continue to be gobsmackingly head over heels for this little nugget of a baby, our last one (for SURE after that labor, hoo boy, tell you about that later), a sweet thing who sleeps and eats and endures his siblings’ overzealous affections in good stride. I spend at least a full hour of every day with my nose pressed into his neck folds. He is delicious.

More on the story of his arrival later, right after I’ve taken my next magic pill … and had a nap … and fed the baby …

Rachel Reiff Ellis lives in Decatur with her husband, Luke, and her three kids: 7- year-old Noah, 4-year-old Rosie, and 6-month-old Max. They’re totally rad in all possible ways, and she’s not just saying that because she gave birth to them. She writes about her experiences with the inanity and absurdity that is parenthood at www.yestertimeblog.com.