Weeks two and one-half are past, passed, over in the way that makes new and hormonal mommies misty. And not just from lack of sleep. It's that eternal conflict: looking for new milestones while striving to live in the moment.
Madeleine and Sarah are gone to camp for a week. They are shooting arrows at the bull's eye and jumping off the diving board and in general having the time of their lives.
I'm still in the back yard, metaphorically speaking, and most days I'm literally lounging there as well.
I move pretty slowly in decision-making and I find I move pretty slowly physically too. This may be age. It may be postpartum. It may be a new me. A more peaceful, less driven kinda me.
Or! Maybe I've gained a tiny measure of that patience I was trying to learn in waiting for a past-due baby. (Hmmph. Ask me again in a couple of months maybe.)
Oh. And: Why is it that three children seems so vastly fewer than five? (Vastly fewer? Did I ever really work as an editor?)
Discuss amongst yourselves. I'm going for the jar of sun tea.