…is never easy when one is as lazy as I. But I’m getting there, although slowly. I’m just going to blame that on the speed bumps and potholes I’ve encountered on the road to serenity. I mean, we’ve lost our live-in help, and while we all knew the day would come, we had no idea it would come right now. Oh well. And the husband is going through revolving moments of being completely wonderful and being a total asshole. I’ll let you guess which one I handle better than the other. Suffice it to say he now realizes that three babies changes things for everyone living in this house, and that immunity from change is something that is not given out 'round here. Oh well.

The newest addition is simply adorable. And now, in this glorious moment of happiness I shall make all you new mothers jealous: She sleeps through the night. Well, she sleeps from around midnight straight through ’till eight or eight-thirty. But eight hours!!! In a row!!!! I swear, if Christine had been like that I might not have considered getting spayed.

OK. Who am I kidding. I would still have gotten spayed. In fact, being spayed is rather nice. No birth control pills. No worrying about if I am or if I’m not…again, oh, Dear Lord please NOOOOOO! (sorry for the temporary insanity)

So she’s wonderful. And pretty damn close to perfect. And we’re settling into a routine.

The older two adore her. Matthieu insists she’s his ‘p’tit frère’ although we’ve tried insisting that no, she’s more like a sister than a brother. Christine wants to kiss her all the time. In fact, like her brother did before, she kisses only the baby. We ask for a kiss and she pushes her cheek to us and waits. But for the baby, well, that’s COMPLETELY different. But the pair of them are happy to have her around, and try to do things with and for her. It’s too cute for words.

There’s only one thing that sucks. She doesn’t. Suck, that is. So breast feeding is a no-go. I’m back to the old pump (or rather a new one since the old one was worn out) and bottles. No, it’s far from ideal, and even getting a bottle down her neck takes an ungodly long time. But it’s either that or syringes, and that, no, just NO. What a frickin’ nightmare. So everything takes twice as long as it should and I get double work again. But this time I actually have enough milk to brag about. Woohoo! We’ve still got the stand-by formula just in case, and we’ve technically broken into it already. But that’s been more out of convenience than need. (yes, we are still lazy)

And the pounds are melting off my bones. I’m only three kilos away from the weight I started out at, and after that, I’ve got another fifteen or so to go until someone will let up about how bouncy my butt is. But hey, at the rate I’m going (five kilos per week) I’ll be looking good in a bikini by the end of summer (not!) providing I get the ole abs in shape (dream on!).

I’ve got so many things I want to write about, and when I’m better organized I’ll share all my fun hospital stories with you (and no, Marc didn’t almost pass out this time, sadly), including the Purple Hulk-Stone-Thing and how every visit to a hospital is a study in Just What IS Wrong with French Civil Servants. Anyway, that’s for another day.

Oh, and a HUGE thank you to everyone who has commented and e-mailed and (golly) sent things our way. You are all too kind, and as I keep telling everyone, I am just blown away by the generosity out there in the blogosphere. Maybe, just maybe, the world isn’t as fucked up as we tend to think.