A good friend of mine who also did time in the NICU for bad behavior {okay, not for bad behavior. But it sounded funny with “did time”}, like many of you, has been the bomb diggity during our current Brehm Train trip to crazy town. She checks in often via text. And yesterday’s text said, “checking in. How’s your sanity?”.
Ah, sanity. That pretty much went out the window after I birthed our first. But the sanity I currently possess… as of my response yesterday, it was good. But every day is a new day. And today… The sanity has left the building. Today, in the essence of keeping it real as I pretty much always like to do, I’d say that at points, the proverbial shit had hit the fan. And was flung all over the house.
Today. Barrett decided having a baby is hard {I told him to write that down and read it again when he’s a pubescent boy}. And he spent a good majority of the day moping around, like someone kicked his dog, saying no one will play with him {and just so we’re on the same page, rock star nanny was here all day, playing with them}. Because, you know, he’s so deprived … he only has Legos, books, cars, super heroes and a billion other toys. And a house with heat. And he basically has to get his own meals and go outside to pee. Okay. The last sentence isn’t true. But if you were to have asked him today, it’s a hard knock life he’s living.
Jonah’s meltdowns are building slowly to the monumental level. And he keeps throwing things. Not at people, thank God. But just throwing. So at least he’s getting some practice for Spring ball. And he clearly has decided that no is a word that must be from a foreign language. Because it currently has little meaning to him. And he continues to have a nose that should have actually run away by now. Which has, in turn, resulted in a rash on his face from constant rubbing of said nose. And he never wears pants. Okay. The pants thing isn’t new.
Harrison had his second fussiest day since he’s come home. Monday was a bit ludicrous as he experienced his first eye exam which included numbing, dilating and basically digging into his eyeballs… Twice. I thought he’d rallied when he had a freaking awesome overnight on Monday {okay…That might be a gross exaggeration…but it was definitely better} so I woke up feeling bright and chipper. But it seemed as though he was a little hungover. Because, for the most part, if he wasn’t fussing, he was sleeping. And if he wasn’t sleeping, he was fussing. And in an exciting 39 week surprise, reflux officially appears to be rearing it’s head for a third time. Because there’s been grunting. And stuffiness and crying anytime you place him in his back. And he has wanted to eat. Eat. Eat. But has been insatiable. And is making sad, old man faces. And furrowing his sad, old man brow. And making weird baby elephant noises. And is packing his bags to run away with the circus. Okay. Not really, on the circus. But his elephant sounds would sure be handy there.
Adam has begun with the sniffles/cough stuff. And though milk does a body good, I am, for the first time in the last 7 weeks nearly ready to throw my pump sanitization supplies in tomorrow’s trash. As I added another 8 oz bag tonight to my pile of 7 others for the day and questioned, “I wonder if Hiland Roberts would broker a deal”.
So my sanity level at 5 pm… I would have rated it at a good solid 3. And even that may have been a weeeee bit of a stretch. Because you know, sometimes you just have those days. Days where you realize like can’t make everyone happy and where that inability will drive you batty. Even though you’re never going to make everyone happy.
Thank the good Lord that some of our besties brought us dinner. And stuck around for a breather from the norm. Because just like that, the day turned a corner. And though I’m fairy certain I could still be shipped off to the funny farm at any moment, I think I can confidently upgrade my sanity level to a 5. And, good ol’ Adam is probably holding steady at a good, solid 7 and a half. And with a newborn, a two year old, a 4 year old and a pump that need us around the clock, I’d call that winning. It’s definitely still a shitshow around these parts. But I think it’s been easier than the transition from one to two kids. Because the older two are learning solidarity as they can be crabby and hate on us together. So really, it’s like we’ve given them a gift.
I have a feeling that just like the rest of life, the rest of parenting, our sanity will continue to ebb and flow by the day…hour…minute…millisecond. And we’ll come out relatively unscathed. I mean, sanity’s overrated anyway… Right?
