My mother-in-law left Monday, and my mom left yesterday. Unfortunately, they took neither my laundry or my dishes or my litterbox-filling-felines with them. Curtis took off work ... for the weekend. I have this worrying sense of impending doom, like my house is just going to cave in with chaos and clutter and craziness once I'm finally left - utterly and completely alone - with these four boys. (And on a related note ... there's that weird sense of holy crap, do I seriously have FOUR kids now?!)
Y'all feel me?
Today is my oldest son Colin's seventh birthday. I can't believe that my "baby" is seven years old. I also can't believe I don't have the energy to search through pictures and write a birthday post devoted to him like I usually do. I feel like a total crapster about this. Maybe when he's eight ...
As for my baby of the baby variety, Corbin ... he's an absolute angel. That's definitely a plus. He sleeps all the time, is alert but quiet when he's awake, and only fusses like once a day. For like ten seconds. I think it's because he knows he's in line behind three other little dudes who have needs (and nearly relentless demands) and that he'd just have to join the queue, anyway.
I feel like crap, although it does get slightly better every day. My iron levels were low during pregnancy, and between the surgery and the postpartum blood loss, I was told at the hospital that now they're ridiculously low. So I'm exhausted and weak-feeling while waiting for all that to normalize. I didn't realize how sore I'd be - OMG, y'all - but I guess when one gets a baby sliced out of her abdomen, she's bound to be a little tender for a while. I'm just tired of being down and out.
And tired of being in my pajamas all the time. Who'd have thought I'd ever say that?