Oh. Hi. Remember me?

Hello.

My name is Adriane. I used to blog here. Like, three months ago.

But then I was really, really pregnant . . . and tired . . . and hot . . . so, basically when the kids went to bed, I put my feet up and . . . didn't blog.

Now I'm back though! All three kids are napping, there's a load of sheets in the washer and clothes in the dryer. The dishwasher is unpacked.

And today's lunch dishes are still on the counter.

As it turns out, I've taken on a new mantra: Never do something while your children are napping that you could do while they're awake. Naps, for instance, don't happen when they're awake. Writing a little post doesn't happen when they're awake. So for now, the dishes can wait.

Here's how our last month went down:

• We have a new baby in the house! His name is Conrad, and he's got the most smoochable cheeks ever. 
• My mom -- who will undoubtedly earn an extra lamb sticker on her Jesus chart when she gets to heaven because of ME -- stayed for over a week when he was born and did all the things that I wouldn't let anyone else other than my mom or sisters do. My middle child even slept with her one night when his poor little teeth hurt so much that he stayed up for hours moaning from pain and a fever. People, she is that giving. I can't thank her enough. But really. 
• Then I dinged my C-section incision and woke up with a giant, painful lump. I went to the doctor, she said it would likely go away, and we went on our merry way to my side of the family's every-other-year vacation. 
• But then the pain got so bad that I could hardly walk and I was a mess, so we left vacation early. 
• Then I cried for about an hour on the way home because I love my family to pieces and we never get to all be together and I was just so mad at myself that this happened. 
• THEN I got sent to the ER because I was in so much ding dang pain, at which point they sliced into me again to no avail. 
• THEN THEN I went back to my original doctor who sliced into me AGAIN to no avail. 
• THEN THEN THEN she sent me to the hospital to do a minor surgery, which ended with me waiting 7 hours, getting into the OR at 9 at night, staying in the hospital over night and being loopy on pain meds. Again. 
• And bless my mom, she came back and Did All The Things 2.0. Like carrying my 30 pound 16-month-old who loves her to pieces after she saved him from the Great Tooth Pain of 2018 and telling my 2.5-year-old roughly 87 times a day to use her "happy voice" instead of whining and even baking banana bread and taking the kids to the library and the grocery store because she is just that good.

My husband, of course, was busy doing all the other things. Like running a business and helping put kids to bed at night and reminding me to take my medicine because mom brain is a real thing, people, and getting phone calls from employees in the middle of the night while the baby is crying, and I think we can all agree he deserves a gold medal for surviving life with a wife who just had a baby and three kids under the age of 2.5.

Or at least a good stiff drink.

You're the best, honey.

So while I have had my moments of sniffles and frustration this month, I'm happy to report there's been even more to be grateful for: a mom who takes good care of me, kids who are very forgiving when mom has to feed a baby and they want to be read to, a doctor who didn't give up until she figured out what was wrong with me, a family who helped with my big kids when we were on vacation for all of -- well -- 48 hours, my favorite Labor and Delivery nurses who had a party in my room when I was back in the hospital the second time, modern medicine (because I am pretty sure if God had plunked me down into life on the prairie I would be one of the women who wandered off in a snowstorm never to be seen or heard from again), my husband's side of the family who made us meals and brought ice cream cakes that can save any bad day of toddler tantrums, and, well, the list could go on for about three more posts.

Actually, here's one more: Today was my baby's one-month doctor's appointment. I was taking all three kids myself because I actually like a good challenge and I needed to know that I could do it. (My doctor told me in the hospital that I'm "stoic" when it comes to pain. I said, "Not really. I just like to save melting down for when it's really warranted." And I figured one little trip to the doctor was not going to wreck the day or be the source of a meltdown.)

We got there early because I had to feed the baby. Then he blew out his diaper. Like, I think they heard the sonic boom a county away. So while I was changing him on the floor of the van, with my toddler gagging and almost throwing up because she does not handle bathroom related things well at all, people, he did it again. Boom number 2.

Then he potty-ed on his outfit.

I had a moment. But I was not going to let that defeat me. So instead I laughed a little inside, changed him again, put new clothes on him, resumed feeding, and worked through how to get all the kids inside: one walking, one in a stroller, and one in a baby carrier.

And then, because the Lord is merciful even though we are undeserving, or maybe because he heard the sonic boom(s), my husband showed up and took the two big kids with a big smile and said he'd walk them down to the grocery store for a treat while I took the baby in. And while I was all, "I can do it by myself! I can! Just let me try!" he reminded me that silage season starts next week and that he'll be gone all day for two weeks -- no bedtimes, no lunches together -- and he just wanted a little moment with his kids before he goes a long time without seeing them.

SWEETEST THING EVER.

So while the pediatrician told me how proud he was that my sons are being raised in a family where they'll be outdoors and learning how to drive a tractor and being around livestock, Dad and the big kids were eating donut holes and drinking apple juice and going for a little walk and loving it. Everyone wins.

(Except the scale. My boys are all in the huge percentile when it comes to height and weight, which I think means they'll be working cows and hogs at the ripe age of 3 at the rate they're going.)

This is a long way of saying that if you're feeling down or discouraged or apathetic or resentful, stop it, you crabby patty. We have so much to be thankful for -- even in the midst of incisions upon incisions, ruined vacations, and 102 degree fevers for a mom tackling three kids by herself while Dad is at work. (Forgot to mention that one.)

It's manageable. It's not the end of the world. It's not as big of a deal as you think. It's do-able.

That's what I've learned -- again and again -- this month, thanks to all the best people the Lord has plopped me in the midst of.

And speaking of do-able, dishes. I'm off to tackle them too.

Thanks for listening and not forgetting me, even though it's been, well, several months, which is basically 8 blog years.

You guys are the best too.

PS What are you thankful for this week especially?