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Irony

This is the text I sent to my girlfriends this morning about last night:

“All between 3:30 and 6 a.m.

Berrett woke up 3x and cried/screamed… we had to let him cry it out the 3rd time. Finn woke us up to pee, then I woke up again because he had turned our bathroom light on and was sitting there. Giselle got woken up by Berrett twice and I fed her back to sleep. Also got a phone call at 5:30 from a telemarketer….. 😵😵😵 I think I’d sleep better in the garage!”

What a night! And yet, Giselle has been SO darling and smiley all morning. Her face just lights up and is so precious and sweet. It has me thinking “how did we ever live without her???” And I know everybody thinks their baby is the prettiest. But mine really is!

Every shot just delights me–how could I ever choose? I was changing her clothes just now (poop blowout) and was thinking how happy my 24-year-old self would have been to have that adorable little girl room. All we had was a crib, and all of Rose’s little baby clothes were stacked on the floor.

And then we went to lie down on my bed and I discovered that Finn’s rainbow lollipop mouth had touched not 1 but all 4 of my white pillowcases and white duvet, which have all been recently washed. And I thought of his splendid tantrum he threw because I gave him an orange plate instead of purple. And how Berrett threw a whisk at my face and didn’t eat the magnificent fried egg sandwich I made him.

And then I was thinking how happy my younger self would be, knowing that one day I’d have these 4 wonderful little babies. Somehow, amidst the exhaustion and disasters, I am the happiest I’ve ever been.

(Not so attractive picture of me by Rose for scale… Giselle is still tiny! 9 lbs and grown out of Newborns 😭 She turned 2 months on Friday)

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