Flashback Friday: When Will was new

There was no Flashback post from me last week - life was a little crazy to say the least. I mean, its usually crazy, but last week was crazy AND I was out of town. So if you wrote a post recently about something that happened a week ago or 357 weeks ago, link up this week. If you don't use a permalink, you'll end up on my "dood, that's soooo uncool" list. Watch out!

Anyway...yesterday I introduced you to Bald Baby, and writing that post made me think about my first days as a Mom of two.

Hubster had a few weeks of sick time built up, and the plan was that he'd be home for the first four and a half weeks of my leave after Will was born.

Nick, 2 and Will, 2 weeks old
March '07

Nick was just barely two, and he'd spent the many days I was in the hospital post-c-section with various Grandmas, no routine and the need for some serious attention. Hubby decided that he'd take him on a special "big brother" trip to the circus the day after we come home.

It was late February, and the day we came home from the hospital it began to snow. It was still snowing the next morning when my brother called, asking for help getting his car out of the alley. Jay headed out to help him shovel and get to work before spring.

I was looking forward to an entire day at home - in my own bed - with my peacefully sleeping adorable newborn in his bassinette beside me. I had TV, I had PJs, I had my big ol' glass of water, the phone and was cozied into my pillows and under my comforter.

Nick came padding into the room in his footie PJs, and I somewhat lamely helped him climb up onto the bed and flipped on cartoons. I had fed Will sometime before and was happy to spend a little time with Nick as he snoozed peacefully beside us.

After awhile, I realized it was getting late. For the boys to make it downtown and to the Circus on time in a snowstorm, they'd have to leave soon. And Nick wasn't even dressed.

Dang it. I'd have to get him ready myself.

I pulled myself out of bed, plodded my still aching body to Nick's room and picked out clothes. As I stood at his dresser trying to find a warm sweater and pants that matched, I heard my brand new baby mew.

Now, Will was born an average eight pound baby, but that kid can EAT. At a month old he weighed 11 lbs, at two months, nearly 14. And he kept growing that way. Needless to say, in those early days, all he did was eat. In fact, the only time he cried was for food - and in his later baby days would suck down 8 oz. of formula fast enough to make you do a double take.

The mewing turned into crying and the crying into screaming before I could even make it back to my bedroom. I return to find Nick jumping on the bed, precariously close to the edge and the baby's basinette.

I get Nick to stop jumping and pick up Will and begin to feed him. Instead of breast-feeding on both sides as I normally do, I do one side, compromising that I'll dress Nick then feed him on the other.

Only baby has other plans. Which include letting me know how irately pissed he is that his feeding has been cut short, but I decide its OK for him to cry a bit for the sake of getting Nick and Hubby out the door and to the circus on time.

So I stand Nick up, unzip the jammies and leave them around his feet while I pull down his pull-up diaper.

"Poop, Mama," he says, and yes indeed, I see too late that there is poop.

Crap. Now what? I have a screaming baby, a toddler with a poopy butt who's pants are around his ankles, and I'm not supposed to lift anything heavier than the baby.

Oh, and did I mention my boobs are leaking? Cuz they were.

I leave screaming baby to, uh, scream, and pick up Nick.

Red. Hot. Pain. In my abdomen. Shit.

I drop toddler to floor, peel PJs and poopy pull-up off his feet and hurry him along to the bathroom, deciding Hubby could clean poo off the floor later if we left a trail.

I get Nick on the potty to do any business he's not yet finished and decide I need to call in reinforcements. Opening the back door, I scream as loud as my re-injured abs will let me, which is practically a whisper over the snowstorm. Needless to say, Hubby does not hear me.

Baby's still screaming. I wipe Nick's butt and get a new pull-up on him. I throw on his clothes and have him climb back onto the bed while I pick up Will and begin to feed him.

Enter hubby, looking cold and oblivious.

"Is Nick ready to go?"

Look of death.

"What?"

And thus began the current chapter of my life.