The Lyngstad household is rounding in on week three as a party of five — if we all could knock on some wood before I type these next words that’d be great — and believe it or not, the adjustment is going fine. Tempted even to say ”really well.”
Let’s keep this in perspective, though — I definitely just popped 500 mg of Tylenol before sitting down here next to my supposed-to-be-sleeping baby, because as much as I know that going for a walk/exercise/yoga/stretching would help these tired baby-supporting muscles (which are used day AND night)…well, we’ll get there. This week medication is still allowed. Bjørn confessed last evening in his exhaustion that his goal for the weekend is just to survive.
But, you know, that’s Friday of our first back-to-work week talking. After a weekend of guests and birthday parties and ear infections and coughs followed by a week of rainy weather and meetings and a very belligerent 2.5 year old, if we’ve only been reduced to an intense wish for sleep and pinch of tylenol, I’d say that’s not too bad.
We’re learning to juggle again. Or is it more like perfecting the lateral pass? Seeing as mothering is my only current employment at the moment, I take some professional pride in prying apart tricky small legos while nursing the baby, for example. Or listening raptly to ”new” facts being presented (”Mama, did you know…?”) while rescuing a soon-to-be-emptied-onto-the-table cup of water. Lateral passing starts when Bjørn comes home and we hand off cooking and rough-housing, poopy diapers and baby burping, speedwalking enough back and forth yardage through our little house to cover the length of 12 football fields all before dinner.
Honestly, it all feels pretty normal.
Not that there’s not learning going on. We’re learning that Cai Ruben likes to be held in the ”football hold,” and that he takes a pacifier better than either of the older two ever did.
I’ve learned that Karel somehow knows exactly how to talk to babies.
I saw Emil’s face finally soften and light up when I helped baby Cai ”reach” for him and stroke his face.
We’re learning to manage two very different big brothers while remembering to not over-exert ourselves (like that bread that I thought I’d just whip up this morning? Pipe dream).
And this time around we know how fast these first days and weeks go. I’m learning to fight the instinct to grieve for them and instead be excited for each new development. This time we know that waking up in the morning covered in sweat and milk and possibly spit-up is a tiny price to pay for these weeks he’s still small enough to sleep nestled in on my chest.
**I need to add that a large part of why this adjustment has gone so well was due to Bjørn being home for 2 weeks immediately following Cai’s birth. There would be a lot more tears from everyone if it wasn’t for his super-pappa-ness.