All aboard

Dear Jack,
It's almost been seven weeks since you arrived.
I'm tired.
Like really really tired.
It's funny how quickly you forget this part of babyhood.

Ah yes, the lack of sleep.
Smelling like baby vomit 99% of the time.
A five minute shower alone feeling like a vacation.
My house looks like a bomb went off in it on a daily basis.
Actually cooking a dinner is a hit-or-miss event these days and there is about two weeks worth of laundry piled up in the hampers.

There have been occasions where I've had more crying children than I have arms to hold.
I found a box of cereal just the other day I had put in the refrigerator.
I found the carton of milk in the cupboard.
Nice.

There have been moments my brain has felt like it was going to melt.
There have been moments I've cried in the shower thinking to myself there is no way I can do this.
And more moments than I can count that I've asked your brother to stop riding the dog.
For God sake, just please get off of the friggen dog.
She's old.

I've said on more than one occasion to my sister with a laugh over the phone as she hears the dog barking at the wind, you crying as I clean up the pee you just shot in your own eye and your brother screaming some hockey song at the top of his lungs while blowing into a whistle with no pants on... "This is my life." 

Because lets face it, if you can't beat the crazy train you mind as well just jump on the damn thing and go for the ride.

And it is my life, this crazy train. And I wouldn't change it.
Nobody else gets to claim this insanity.
Ride these ups and downs.
Take credit for you boys ...
Just your dad and I. We get that honor.
The good, the bad.
Its his. Its mine. Its ours.
And that's pretty stinkin' cool.

I'd jump on this damn thing every day of the week to ride it out with you three.

We've watched countless sunrises together over coffee and baby milk dates.
Every morning I hear the tippy-tapping of your brother's feet as he bounds for the stairs, and directly for you, asking how you are, rubbing his nose against your nose.
I've rounded countless corners catching your dad kissing the top of your head as he rocks you against his chest. You look so small in his arms.
Your favorite place to sleep in over our hearts.
You're happy as long as your're fed.
You belly laugh in your sleep.
You look for your brother when you hear his voice.
You smell like baby powder and sweet milk.
I've grown use to the tick-tock your baby swing makes as it lulls you asleep.

These days are messy.
They're noisy.
They're exhausting.
They're a bit on the raw side right now.
The frazzled side.
The want-to-eat-chocolate-all-day side.
They're completely different than the first time around.
And that's okay too.
They're ticking by already as we speak.
They're wonderful, and funny and beautiful.
And as crazy as they are, they feel oh so completely complete.

Thanks Jacksey for finding your way to us. For being such a wonderfully relaxed, chilled out baby. For making me a mom again. For making your dad a dad again. For making a brother out of S. He truly loves you. It's worth all the sleepless nights to see how much he truly loves and adores you.

I'm happy you decided  to jump on this ride with us.
Welcome aboard my littlest love.