When Three Becomes Four

When you get pregnant with your first child you know right away that EVERYTHING will change. You understand that the dynamic of your household will change drastically. It's no surprise that when you add that third little person into your life that things turn backwards and inside out and life is different. And none of this is a bad thing.  You adjust, you adapt, you figure out how to make it work for you. Life is peachy.
Then you get pregnant.
It feels like we were a tight little family unit of three forever. Mom, Dad and Trent. The three musketeers. I knew that when Sawyer came things would change, but how? We've done the baby thing before, we got this! We've done the boy thing before, we got this! We've done the breastfeeding thing before, WE GOT THIS!
I'm not sure we've got this.
Four years is a long time to forget what having a newborn is really like. It's long enough to forget the woes of establishing a breast feeding relationship. And it's long enough to forget to tuck that little pecker securely into each and every diaper. I had forgotten about the hours on end of crying babies do, sometimes for no reason other than they must like to hear how their voice echos off the walls. I had forgotten that babies (or at least my babies) poop about every hour and a half, so you go through fifty million diapers a day. I had forgotten the mysterious sour milk/poop smell that wafts up from you at random times but you can never really find it's source.
And then to top it all off, I have to add a FOUR YEAR OLD to the mix. He's been the center of our universe for the last four years and although he understands that he has to share us with baby brother, it doesn't make it easy for him. I hear a bazillion times a day; "mummy look, mummy look, mummy look" and no matter how many times I look, it's never enough. He doesn't have my undivided attention anymore. He is so full of energy that he's about to burst at any given moment, but I feel so constrained by a nursing infant and the cold weather. Anytime I'm about to do something that is just for Trent, a game or a story or just a mummy snuggle, Sawyer cries. Poor Trent.
So our little three became four. We are now adjusting and adapting and figuring out how to make it work. In the meantime, if you see me at the mall with a wild running preschooler and a wailing infant, please don't think I'm a bad mum - I'm just trying to figure out how to juggle two boys.