3 weeks

Happy Birthday Baby Evan! Today you are three weeks old…which is pretty much the same as two weeks old except you’re hungrier. I didn’t think that was possible, but congratulations, you proved me wrong. You win two very tired boobs. You’ve also learned that when you cry, someone picks you up and your inner manipulator is now ruling the household. It’s worse for me than it is for Daddy because although the screaming can pierce anyone’s eardrums, my new super Mommy-hearing means I can hear you even with a pillow, a solid wood door, a flight of stairs and half the house between us. I think Daddy would disagree though, because I have the option of shoving a boob in your mouth while his own useless nipples would probably just anger you further.

Since my mom went home I’m in charge of all the cooking and cleaning – which means there are piles of laundry everywhere and we’ve had Wendy’s for lunch twice this week. The only reason this bothers me is because I like McDonald’s better, but I’m so hungry I’d eat the cat if she’d hold still long enough for me to put some peanut butter on her. I did manage to get to the grocery store yesterday (Alone. In my convertible. It was glorious.) and have plans to make dinner for the next few nights, but we’ll see what Mussolini Baby Evan is doing at about 6 pm.

Next weekend the baby will be 1 month old and the march of visitors begins. Besides my folks coming back to help us finish some home renovations, my sister, grandmother, E’s parents, my best friend and her husband, and my other two best friends are all hoping to come. I’m trying to figure out exactly how many weekends there are in May, but I have a feeling the answer is not six. Don’t worry friends and relatives! You will all get to meet my bebeh soon. Although considering how much he’s eating I can’t guarantee you’ll be able to pick him up without throwing your back out. To make your visits more enjoyable, we’ve put in the work order to get the boat out of winter storage, so although you may be listening to a screaming baby, at least you’ll be listening to him while drinking Long Island Iced Teas on Long Island Sound. My baby is totally doomed to a life of plaid and popped collars.