Everyone talks about life after baby in the sense that things will return to normal.  Or a new normal, as people like to say.  Norah is 17 days old as I write this, and we are right on the cusp of things feeling like a new normal.  Part of that is good – the familiar routines, the ability to get life back on track for the non-newborns living in the house, the steadiness that is lost for a moment when you first get home with a squinty little baby.

But it also makes me a little sad, in a way.  The newborn phase is over so quickly.  And we are still in it, I know.  But I already feel it slipping away like water through my fingers.  We are trying hard to soak in in though.

She is growing at a ridiculous pace. In fact, she weighed in at 9 pounds, 15.5 ounces this weekend – which is actually a little ridiculous. Mama makes some crazy milk, I guess. I haven’t supplemented at all this time and I’ve got one fat baby … which is hilariously ironic in light of Jude’s early weight loss and my meager supply there at the beginning and all of our drama. Smooth sailing this time. Thank you, boobs. One less thing to worry about.

I’m trying to remind myself that SAHMs need a maternity leave as well.  I mean it’s only fair.  I felt not an ounce of guilt for lounging with a baby two years ago, and I shouldn’t feel any now.  It’s a honeymoon.

So until this new normal is really our normal, there might be a larger-than-usual laundry pile. Or a lackluster dinner on the table. Or an extra cartoon for my toddler every morning. Normal can wait.