There’s been a bit more gritching (slash wailing) and a lot less sleepy down time the last few days (slash a day, but when a baby is crying time stretches out like eterrrrrnity) so my hands-free time is spent either: showering, sleeping or shoveling food into my piehole. I did take a rogue trip to Target, but it involved wedging my postpartum hips into Noah’s booster seat to nurse Max in the crowded parking lot and also a loaded diaper change in my lap, so I’m not sure I would call that a “successful” outing, per se.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, since I’m home alone for the daytime hours and would probably lose my mind a lot faster), the fussing seems to ramp up at dinner time and extend well into bedtime hours (11ish or so) so, for example, last night, L and I spent the evening playing pass the baby until we collapsed. This does not time for blogging make!

Instead, there is a lot of this:

… which is nice, because, you know, quiet! And sleeping! Except it’s sort of short-lived, and also involves my body being upright and usually moving.

If he’s anything like Noah and Rosie as babies, though, this won’t last long. There always seems to be an adjustment to life period that happens around now, and we’ll make it through, just like we did before. Or sell him on eBay, deending on how high the bids go.

However, in other news, Max is the first of our three kids to get a birth announcement! Go team!

Noah deems this “no fair.” Sorry Noah (and Rosie). But there are hundreds of photos and stories of you on the Internet from the last four years that will most likely embarrass you out of your mind later in life, so all is not totally lost, kids. You’re welcome!

Editor’s note: We’re traveling back in time a bit to recount the first few months of Rachel’s life as a mom of three. She lives with her husband and brood in Decatur.