My mom came (back, again).

Yesterday was my very best day as a mother of two.

My little ones napped when they were supossed to nap, were generally happy, & allowed me to get a few things done here & there. I made dinner mid-day, did multiple loads of laundry,  ran an errand with West while Q played with his girlfriend Ella, & got two boys ready for bed without any tears from any parties involved. Mike got home from work late & asked how my day was. Really good! was my genuine response. I was basically giving myself high fives all day. 

It was one of the first times in seven weeks where I didn't feel like a total crazy person. This of course doesn't mean that those days won't happen multiple times again over the next several months, but it did give me a little bit more light into my newborn tunnel - & that was nice.

(I owe much of this happy state to the fact that West is giving me 7+ hour stretches of sleep at night. He's likely doing this thanks to the fact  I'm off dairy & gluten for the time being, given his intollerance. I hope someday he appreciates my sacrifice - I can't even tell you how badly I just want a glass of chocolate milk & a cheese quesadilla right now. In separate meals, of course.) 

Anyway, we feel good this week. Like we're going to make it. 

A few weeks ago was an entirely different story. I explained my mental state to my mother as feeling like I was just going to burst if someone poked me. She always promised to come back & help whenever I needed it, & her special mother powers let her know that I needed her shortly after she left. I think my mom has always had a really speical mama gift of knowing when her children need her. She's a listen to the Spirit kind of person, & she's shown me that over & over again (even in small ways, like finding our piano for us - a sweet miracle that she knew would make me so happy). I've tried to thank her as many ways as I know how, but it never feels sufficient. I genuinely felt rescued when she came back.

(I've also felt a bit selfish, as I'm well aware that I've dominated much of her time this year. I am only one of her seven children, & of course she has an active life outside of all of us.) 

We counted up the number of days she's been with us in Texas since we moved here 15 months ago, & really, it's embarassing-slash-amazing (think cross-country move, a hard pregnancy, a vacation just the two of us, a few random visits, etc). If we translated the number of days into dollars, we could get a decent dinner for our family of four. Pizza, salad & drinks at our favorite local spot, I'm sure. I'm grateful that she's been willing to help me so often over the course of a year that has had quite the variety of challenges. The overarching theme in her advice has always been that everything will be okay. She told me I'd make friends & love it here when we were heartbroken to leave New York (I did, & I do), she told me I'd feel better & eventually be willing to endure another pregnancy (I did feel better... but we'll see!), she got me through a really painful labor & delivery, & convinced me to keep breathing when I felt like I'd be absolutely crushed by the initially entirely overwhelming feelings that came with two little boys under two. She is a consistent, steadying presence - always.

Q had an especially lovely time while she was here (he's currently refusing to get off of my lap, waving to the computer screen, repeatedly saying to the photos, Grandpa! Grandpa! Which means Grandma, naturally). She spent a lot of time at the park, gave West a few bottles so that I could pump & run out solo, put together our new train table & woke up every. single. morning. with our early bird Mr. Quinn so that I could sleep a bit more. It's just her nature to dive in & help, always. 

Sweet West is 7 weeks old & all of a sudden no longer a newborn. He's big! And doing some new tricks like making cute baby noises & cute baby faces other than a scrunched up angry face accompanied by loud volume. This week, it's a lot of sleeping, eating, pooping & getting increasingly chubby. It's nice. The warm & fuzzy mama feelings are making their way up through the newborn fog & I'm starting to feel peaceful with the phase. 

Photos from the other week.