So, apparently, according to the breast feeding book I just read, I'm supposed to feel inadequate. It's the nature of the job. Because the kid is always growing and demanding more milk and the boobs have to catch up every few weeks, after a day or two of cranky, demanding, pain in the butt baby behavior, then one really is inadequate, food-wise, on a regular basis and there is nothing you can do until the boobs do their catching up.
That's just great.
Because I never felt inadequate before. Oh no. I haven't spent my whole frickin' life feeling inadequate in some way or another. Who doesn't? Jerks I suppose. Egotistical jerks. Perhaps it's all an act though, because how can you feel adequate in every stinking department?
Eh, well what are ya gonna do? I'm the one who chose to have a fourth kid. Now that doesn't mean I don't get to complain about it. It goes with my belief that I get to feel sorry for myself whenever I want to, no matter if the responsibility for the suckage in my life is mine. I don't see how it matters who's at fault, I can still have a pity party.
But mostly I'm just scared.
The logistics of handling three toddlers and a newborn infant befuddles me. You can't plan with a newborn. They eat whenever they feel like, and if you feed them at 5, thinking then at 6 you could be free to bathe and put your triplets to bed they will wake up at 5:58, fart loudly and say "not so fast Red, get back here and feed me again."Oh yes, they will ruin any and all plans you have. Should you feed them in the morning and head out to get a 'mommy deserves it mani-pedi' thinking you have an hour or two of sleeping infant to count on, he will wake up the minute your hands are soaking in rose petal water, burp, barf, and say "you think you get mommy time? I no think so."
(It's funny, his voice has a lovely hispanic accent and nasal tone in my head, so that sounded more like "Ay noo theeeenk sooo" as I typed it. I'm guessing that with non-hispanic parents he is unlikely to come out with an accent once he starts speaking though.)
And the other thing I wonder about is when to start looking for post partum depression. I mean the hormones are running rampant. I don't even know what I, the real me, think anymore. Is it the hormones throwing chairs at my husband or is it really me who's pissed off? Do I really hate breastfeeding with a passion that could light infernos in a cold hell? Or do I just need to wait for the hormones to wear off? And so, when do I need meds for this crazy in my head? Certainly before I kill one of the kids. But if today the screaming of the infant was particularly pernicious, is it starting or will tomorrow be better?
I have no idea how I'm going to handle the next few months. The triplets will not be bathed and will have to climb into their own cribs at night, the infant will be fed, albeit angrily and resentfully by the boob lady, the husband will be neglected until he all but walks out, and the cats will be lucky if their litter boxes ever get emptied, but I suppose I'll make it out the other side. I mean how much worse can a fourth be than three at once?
(Um, the answer, apparently, is impossible btw.)