"I see you're very busy," they say.

Six weeks postpartum and I have yet to post my birth story.  Or even start the post.  Dah.

I'm honestly almost to the point of not caring.  Which kind of makes me sad, but it can't be helped.  'Tis the season.  Of year and life.  It's summer-time.  The garden is putting out and I have four boys that keep me hopping.  The little "down-time" I do have (oh the irony) dissipates elsewhere.

But I'm happy.  Very happy.

One of my goals this summer is to take the boys swimming once a week.

We've gone to the kiddie pool once and the lake twice.

Two out of the three times, Jamie took a nap on his own volition.

Once in the stroller, once on the blanket under a towel.

So wonderful, because he's actually cheerful at the end of the day.

 The nice thing about this lake is the waves on a windy day --

Almost as good as the seashore.

They had so much fun jumping the waves.

They were also battling the waves (of course).

 

 I had Jamie in a little floaty-thing because 

the waves were so strong it was knocking him over.

Thank goodness I brought it (a dumpster-diving treasure, btw).

 I just love this picture of Peg-Leg Dieg --

It gives such a great view of his changing teeth,

not to mention how adorable and happy he is in the water.

 And here's what me and the Little Mister were doing on the beach.

He was snoozing and I was soaking in the maternal bliss.

No one was fighting, everyone was entertained and happy --

It was beautiful, warm, pleasant, relaxing.

It was so bloody satisfying.

Life carries on in other ways too.  Like newborns turning into plump little babies.  Eliah is six weeks old now.  Un-un-un-un.  I can hardly remember life without him.  It seems like he's always been here.  

He loves being held upright, looking over my right shoulder.  He's starting to make little baby noises more and more, still so softly, like he's just trying them out.  We snuggle together all night long, which feels so. good.  I still don't mind waking up to nurse him throughout the night.  The only bugger is when I can't get a burp out, but then I just prop him up across my chest while laying down, pat his back and doze.

 He started smiling on Saturday morning.

I could tell it was coming soon --

I saw one side of his mouth turn up on Friday night.

He's a big hit with his new skill and it makes everyone laugh and feel happy.

(The picture is blurry from me gggggwa-ing to get him to grin.)

 But I still love seeing that serious little face --

He was ooooooo-ing in this picture.

The composition in this picture pleases me.

Not to mention the little feller, gettin' plump.

It's hard getting work done with a little one though.  Very hard.  Especially now that there are three older brudders who still need me.  It is inevitable that someone needs something at pretty much all times.  I've kept on track with maintaining an hour of Quiet Time for the older boys during Jamie's nap, but Eliah's long nap isn't always reliable in coinciding in conjunction with this designated down-time.

There are piles everywhere.  Many tasks are on the back-burner, waiting to be done.  Paperwork and my very important task of recording life ("special notebooks", calendars, picture emails, blog, etc.) is piling up.  All the boys' winter clothes is sitting in a big stack downstairs.  Not to mention trying to keep a good supply of food in regular rotation.  Not so easy when you cook from scratch and have only a smidgen of time.  

Blaine and I are working as a team on food preservation, and he is spending a lot of time doing inside work I usually have covered in addition to his outside work, which is so wonderful . . . but the weekends just aren't enough.  There is just too much to get at.  We are working in survival-mode only.

 Cilantro
("herbcicles" frozen in ice cube trays)

 Peas and beans

(blanched and dehydrated)

I have been brainstorming solutions for the past couple of weeks and realized what I need: HELP.  I need help.  Hilarious and overly obvious, but dude.  I need help.  

Then I remembered a conversation I had with the 18 year old daughter of my friend (the one who wants to be a doula and came to observe Eliah's birth).  It was on the way to a prenatal appointment; she said that she loves children and would be more than happy to help if I needed it (she also loves babies).  

At the time I didn't need any assistance, so I thanked her and said I would keep that in mind.  But two months later . . . I remembered.  Yo.  That hit the spot.  Help.  I need help.

So she'll be coming for a couple hours once a week to help out.  All I need her to do is hold the baby or play with the boys while I do a blitz on what-have-you.  I already made a list and it is mighty-long, believe me.  We are bartering her help for garden produce.  I am so pleased.  I've been literally daydreaming of all the potential.

 And we're still all loving to snuggle with our newest little guy.

This was taken after his first bath a couple weeks ago.

Awwwwww . . . the dimple. 

Truen still regularly asks to hold him,

which inevitably triggers Jamie to hold him next.

This was taken Saturday morning.  
Look how much fatter he looks in this picture!