So it's Sunday afternoon.
Michaela is at a Brownies activity, running around a corn maize on a farm with her friends.
Jenna is spending an hour at my parents' house, playing with her "action figures": little resin figures of the Disney Princesses and a few Polly Pockets thrown in.
Dan is laying on the couch, watching football, holding a rapidly growing Alec, who is also sleeping. (Is there no better feeling than holding a sleeping baby? No. There is most definitely not.)
I am poking around on the Internet, checking emails and facebook and eating a delicious dessert that the mom of one of Michaela's friends brought over this week, along with a killer salad and some baked ziti. I am feeling much better, recovering from the birth and the stitches and the nursing and the cramping and the anxiety and realignment of my back and stomach muscles.
We made our triumphant first appearance at church today and it was wonderful to be back, to be sitting in the pew as our family of five.
In an hour or so, we are going to a friends' house for dinner.
We have been overwhelmed by the generosity of our family and friends who have celebrated the birth of this baby like he was their own.
The clothes, the toys, the meals, the treats, the love.
The Giants won.
The Yankees are winning.
Mad Men is on tonight.
Life is just about perfect.