Adjustments...

There's something myserious about delivering my fourth child that qualifies me as a "veteran mother." At least that's how I'm treated. The hospital nurses were hesitant to give me any advice on the care of infants. If they did, it was always with the reverent qualifying statement, "but I'm sure you already knew that..." The funny thing is that I feel brand new at all of this! I find myself making the most startling mistakes. It wasn't until a dozen feedings had passed that I realized Papoose's writhing and fussing might be due to the fact that I hadn't yet burped him.

I decided to opt out of the "baby's first homecoming" nurse's visit. Not because I felt that I had things under control. No, I was keenly aware of my inadequacies and didn't want to risk having a few of my beloved children confiscated.

When the nurse called our home, I mustered up my most serene voice and assured her that all was well. True, Baby Boy had just found his brother's pocket knife collection, the big kids were in the same clothes from days before and Papoose was marinating in a shockingly dirty diaper. But those were my little secrets. There was no need to cast disillusionment over those nurses who shook their heads in wonder and asked themselves, "Now, HOW does she do it?"

Later that day, we decided to attempt a family walk up our beautiful, wooded road. It was quite the process finding matching socks and shoes for so many little feet, but we prevailed. I sent the big kids out ahead so I could dress Papoose. When I started outside, I groaned at the whoops and yells I heard from a flock of children outside my door. "Man, can't the neighborhood kids just leave us alone?" I bemoaned. Startled, I realized that all of those noisy voices belonged to my own little ones. I remembered something I read in one of those hospital pamphlets they send home with you (yes, I actually read those again!). Above all else, new mother's must maintain their sense of humor.