Daddy's American Sweetheart

I was sitting outside Burg Eltz on Saturday. I had found a quiet spot to feed Abigail. I had my legs propped up on a bench. There were a lot of flies, and they were making a home on my legs which was a bit annoying. Elijah was standing near me, and JB told him, "Elijah, scare the flies off of Mommy."

Expecting him to shoo away the flies like a "normal" person would do, we all found ourselves bent over laughing when Eiljah came up and put his face near a fly and gave the loudest "ROAR!" you have ever heard. He decided to take the lion approach to shooing flies. It didn't work real well, but it definitely highlighted a lot of laughter the boys have been providing us adults with lately.

I wish I could remember all the things they say every day and how funny they are. However, most of the things are simply the way they say things and that often cannot be captured in words I can type. Other things they say are not quite/barely appropriate enough for the blog. The word "stick" for instance is chopped up a bit by the fact that Elijah pronounces his "s" like "d" right now. You know, that kind of thing.

But laughter, even laughter you can't reproduce via words at a later date, is unbelievably healthy. And especially right now, for me. I've been fighting a bit of "baby blues." I don't remember feeling this way after Elijah, but Elijah's birth was so muddled by hospital stays and illness and sleepless nights that I don't think I would have been able to differentiate between the tears I was producing from pain and frustration and those that were hormonally produced. I did struggle a bit with some depression/anxiety but that was six months after Elijah's arrival. And of course, there were no hormones to deal with when Isaac joined our family so the point is mute there.

But this time, I feel great physically, and yet I find myself crying a bit. (John would say more than a bit.) I find myself getting overly nostalgic. News stories leave me unable to cope. (Don't even get me started on the Norway incident.) As we pack up our little apartment here and get ready to send the boys and JB off, I find myself crying over leaving. (Really? I want to go home.) When Isaac wants his privacy in the bathroom, I find myself crying thinking about the fact that he is growing up. (Why would him being toilet trained make me sad?)

I read a bit online and JB concurred that these "baby blues" are not the same as post-partum depression. Apparently the blues are very common. Most women get them. And for most women they alleviate themselves within a few days or weeks. Stinkin' hormones.

That isn't to say I am not enjoying our little bundle of girl. She is a great baby. While I don't know her like I know my boys yet, that bond is growing stronger by the moment. She is soft and sweet and beautiful, and I am blown away that I get to be her Mom. We are doing great. A few tears. Lots of laughs. But doing wonderfully.

And more ready than ever to get us all under one roof together on Turkish soil. Please keep praying for passport speed. It doesn't appear we will have the passport by the time JB an the boys go home, but I am still hopeful that we will have it by the time my parents leave later this week so I can take a commercial flight back home. Stay tuned!