He is a high needs baby . . . my second high needs baby. You know how some people get one tough baby and then get one "easy" baby. Yeah, well not me.
It is flattering yet so very exhausting.
Tune back later when I'll perhaps have time to upload some pics . . . after I take Megan to preschool and pick her up, empty the dishwasher, fold the clothes in the dryer, make dinner, make another dinner for Nana, take Megan to her doctor's appointment, buy formula, return the red box movie, borrow a sweater from my sister, entertain Megan, read and understand all 192873294 pages of the city's budget and be able to speak intelligently on the subject when the newspaper reporter calls (all while holding my 18 pound infant under my left arm) and attend my city council meeting tonight . . . without forgetting to put on my breast pads (to conceal embarrassing leaks) like last meeting when I had to put on my coat and run out the door. Good times!