Our son Sam was born on May 6th. He was a planned cesarean, due to arrive May 11th, but I went into labour on my own and he came a few days earlier than expected. 

My mom came and stayed with the girls while Dustin and I stayed in the hospital for a couple nights with our new son. It was a whirlwind, and although we considered ourselves “old pros”, everything was new again. Omg, Dustin, is there blood on the butt of my hospital gown?  Why is Sam crying again, I just fed him? Did we really just have another baby? Can we order Pizza Hut? 

The BEST part about our hospital stay this time around (besides having Sam, of course) was having our daughters see Sam for the first time. Lily, six years older than her newest sibling, dove right in. “Can I hold him/feed him/put nail polish on him?”  Phoebe, on the other hand, was very quiet, and was likely plotting a level two terrorist attack. She has been a little difficult since Sam was born (expected) but she is definitely coming around, and seems to love him very much. She’s only asked to take him back to the hospital once. We did not indulge her. 

Having three kids is crazy. Completely, utterly, crazy. Crazy tears, crazy meltdowns, crazy mealtimes. Crazy leaving the house. Crazy car rides, crazy sleep patterns, crazy parents. It’s a crazy train of diapers, school lunches, tangles, tiaras, marathon nursing sessions, spilled juice, dirty floors, Lego, half eaten tomatoes in your toddlers bed and endless laundry. 

We are so blessed and incredibly thankful for these three yahoos.