Earth Mother

I realise I may be turning into what can only be termed an earth mother as i sit at the kitchen table helping a four year old make biscuits, with one boob hanging out, while i try and feed new baby, roll dough and tidy, all at the same time.  F doesn't seem very bothered by it, but i'm sure the people going past the end of our garden on a bus would find it interesting if they happened to look in our kitchen window.  We are now 2 and a half weeks in to the new routine with new baby, although routine gives our lives an image of organisation that they really don't have, I have survived 3 nights with the mother in law who invited herself to stay and sat around smoking fags and drinking red wine while poor hubby who was supposed to be bonding with his new family had to rush around after her like a blue arsed fly.  We are settling down quite nicely, and I am even managing to type this one handed, while feeding new baby, which may explain the erractic use of capital letters.