There is no sweet bathtub for the second kid, no, she’s just thrown in the sink. Pretty sure I rinsed the coffee down the drain before we started the bath but not making any promises.
Poor Ginny is getting tossed around like yesterday’s newspaper. Gentleness is reserved for the first baby. If you can see her tiny face, she is screaming her head off, wondering if God somehow misplaced her into this family that lacks new baby tenderness.
I am pretty bedraggled. Looks like I just got a shower, which is nothing short of a miracle. I wore those pajamas everyday for like 2 weeks straight. My face is showing the slight strain of third day sore boobs, and postpartum meltdown that will quickly arrive.
Leslie has a front row seat to the action. She is munching down on her banana, more than likely informing me, multiple times over, that her baby sister is crying. If I close my eyes I can still hear her voice, “Why she cryin’ Mama? You gonna feed her? I don’t like it.”
And to beat it all, look at Wayne in the background. Yeah, the skinny kid with all the hair. Looks way to young to have fathered this screaming baby. He peers over my shoulder as if he is interested, but I can assure you that shortly after this photo was taken, he was zoned out in front of Georgia Outdoors Sportsman.
I’d go back again in a heartbeat, even if just fora few hours on that morning in April 1996.