I’ve written so many great blog posts lately. Like, proper posts. With proper words and grammar (she says, not using proper grammar in this post). Thoughtful posts. Unfortunately, I’ve written them in my head, late at night. And they’ve stayed there.

Blame him. His fault. Always with the wanting attention! Always with the hungry and the crying and the changing.

Well, I may have a part to play in this crime. I might hold him a little too long. I might stare at him when he’s sleeping just to make sure he really is asleep. I might be getting some things done other than blogging. Like unpacking my clothes, a mere four months after we moved here (my defense is that I couldn’t actually wear most of them around the bump, but now I can – hurrah).

But I’ll be back. The words are there. I just need a bit longer to set things up so I can get them out onto the keyboard again, more than in 140-character bursts.

Postscript on the last post: I’m fine; I was just venting. After I wrote that, our nanny was sick for 2 days and I managed to get the kids to school while juggling the baby and everything else. I have actually extended the nanny for a couple more weeks, on at least a part time basis (we’re discussing it right now, so her last day isn’t tomorrow after all). And Mark has a good chunk of time off for the holidays in December/January. So the real juggle will start in January and hopefully we’ll be more ready to take on the world at that point. Hopefully.

I threw out all the lovely flower arrangements that we received when Charlie was born yesterday. They were simultaneously serving as a reminder of people’s thoughtfulness and generosity upon his arrival, as well as the decay and neglect of things around the house as they dried out and wilted. If he’s sleeping and I have a limited amount of time to accomplish something, unfortunately watering the flowers (and houseplants that were already here) is low on the list. Just now I made a decision to jump on the computer instead of having a shower. This was probably stupid.

This is the hardest thing for me – the newborn stage. The extent of his dependency on me. The brief windows of freedom. I don’t like it. I never have. Despite the fact that I have probably enjoyed his newness more than with the other two (assisted by a sense of ‘none of them will ever be this small and warm and curled up again’) and these 3 weeks have already gone by so quickly, I still struggle greatly with the complete loss of my sense of self. I’m not at work; I’m missing performing intellectual tasks, using my higher brain power, being challenged by issues and questions. I’m not operating on all cylinders at home; I’m tired, cranky, emotional, impatient. The older kids are testing, testing, and I’ve had about enough of it. I want to get things done, and instead I’m tied to a tiny helpless human.

My world seems really small. I sit in my armchair, holding him, feeding him, watching him sleep. I’ve got a side table with a glass of water and/or a cold cup of coffee. I’ve got my devices, my Blackberry and my iPod, one or both, and I’m so thankful for the lifeline to the outside world. I spend most of my time on Twitter just reading what other people are saying rather than talking, clicking links to various articles or blog posts. I’m too caught up on Facebook, more than I ever wanted to be. I’ve also got daytime television, which is mostly crap. I can’t bring myself to watch the soap operas I used to enjoy as a student. I’m trying to stick to cooking or talk shows.

I wish the house wasn’t a disaster. It’s a losing battle against 3 males (can’t blame the 4th quite yet) and a dog. I wish I was dressed. I wish I could get my hair cut. I wish my Saturday night wasn’t spent at the grocery store. I wish I didn’t have to eat a cold dinner after spending time cooking it for everyone else.  I need an app for all these things.

I know it’s going to get better – I know there is light at the end of the tunnel. But when you’re deep in the tunnel, that pinprick seems awfully small and far away. Currently I’m too focused on the end of November. The last day of the month is the last day that I have full time childcare. I made sure that I kept the nanny on contract until then, buying myself the luxury of a few weeks of rest before really having to parent full time. And I have mostly been taking advantage of the opportunity. Really, Charlie and I have barely left the house. For better or worse.

Come December 1st, I’ve got to have my act together or everything is going to fall apart. Well, mostly I’m going to fall apart. I feel like I need to set things up to ensure our success, all of us together, and I’m not sure how we’re going to get there. At this point I start remembering things like the fact that I haven’t bought them winter boots yet. Crap.

Last week at Oliver and Callum’s parent-teacher interviews, we discussed how much change they have both dealt with in the past few months. I’m pretty sure the extent of those changes has a lot to do with my own mindset right now. I think I need a grown up to pat me on the shoulder and tell me it’s okay.

*

I sit back and re-read this and think it’s probably the most depressing post I’ve ever written. And really, I should probably just get outside and get some fresh air and sunshine. Perhaps walking to and from their school 3 times a day will turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to me, in the end. Things aren’t that bad. I just needed to articulate this. Nobody needs to call me and make sure I’m okay. I’m fine. Really. I’ve been here before. This too shall pass.

(thanks, Tami, for the photo)

I tried to pick you up the other night, after you fell asleep in your brother’s bed (as you often do). I could barely lift you. You are suddenly gargantuan; your newly minted extra-large size not actually caused by turning 4, but by the birth of your relatively minuscule baby brother just days ago.

You are in love with Charlie, and I really appreciate that. You are my helper at the change table. You want to touch him every opportunity you get. I also know that you are being a bit grumpier than normal because of all the changes that have gone on here lately, and I can understand that.

You are smart and cheeky and boisterous. You still talk with a lisp and I’m thinking maybe we should get that seen to – although in meeting your classmates who were here for your weekend party, it makes me think that your entire class still talks like you’re all infants, so maybe we’re okay. You’re all still so cute in Junior Kindergarten. (Also, loud and crazy. That was quite the party.)

You’re suddenly the middle child. And I hope you are going to be okay with that. I think you probably have enough personality for us to ensure that you aren’t forgotten in the mix of things. Fingers crossed, kid.

Happy, happy birthday, bud.

AKA our new ABCs:

Alpha:

Noun: beginning; in astronomy, used to designate the brightest star in a constellation. Adjective: being the most prominent, talented, or aggressive person in a group: the alpha male of investment bankers.

Bravo:

Interjection (used in praising a performer). Verb (used without object): to shout “bravo!”

Charlie:

Born November 1st 2011, just after 10pm at night. 9lbs 7oz. 10 fingers, 10 toes, as Callum keeps checking for (it’d be okay if he had extra or less, though, so nobody fret).

He’s well. As am I, until I get completely overwhelmed by everything other than him. More soon.

(of course, I can barely make a meal or get dressed but I can manage to write a short blog post and change my blog header. Priorities, right? Good grief.)