lemon squeezy

Nearly every Mother with more than three kids told me the same thing "Three is the breaking point you know." Apparently the scale officially tips when your kids outnumber your arms. My Mom had it especially rough. Her third was a moody, inconsolable baby. Lack of sleep alone can wear you out but a chronically fussy baby is enough to drive anybody into a major postpartum funk. With three kids under four years of age my siblings and I are lucky my Mom didn't Andrea Yates us.

Needless to say everyones well intended "the third is the hardest" advice had me a little freaked out. I think Moms always have a small nagging feeling of incompetence and with my third on the way I was feeling it big time. But somehow (at least thus far) I have escaped the brunt of the third child curse. I attribute it to three things:

1. The girls are old enough to help. When Scarlett was born not only could Ruby not really help, she couldn't even understand what was going on. That's the difference between having children 20 months apart and 4 1/2 years apart. They understand "Grab me a diaper", "You need to be quiet" and "Don't squeeze his head" which has made the transition so much smoother.

She even managed to find what Nic affectionately refers to as her "chemo hat" 

2. My Mom. Having such a horrible, terrible experience her third go around she has been like a saint in making things as easy for me as possible. She makes sure I've eaten (even making grilled cheese sandwiches on demand), she's picked up Newborn diapers I've forgotten, and most notably substitute Mothered my girls.  She's taken them to school, bathed them and generally made sure they don't look homeless (as evidenced in the picture taken above, from a day when she was not around to help and Ruby dressed herself.) If it weren't for her I think I'd be immersed in full on postpartum crazies right now. 

3. Finally, Adam. He has been the best baby. He's the kind of baby who only cries for the textbook reasons babies cry (feed me! change me! put my diaper back on me!) He's the kind of baby you have to wake up to feed. The kind of baby who just seems happy to be alive. He's as Ruby says "Easy peasy, mac and cheesy, lemon squeezy!" You couldn't find a happier more content baby if you tried. I thank heaven for that. Plus it still allows me time to sneak in the occasional batch of cookies.