Sorry — I meant to say “here we go again,” but I’m still learning to type with one hand.

Yes, here we go, once again trying to figure out how to integrate a newborn into the hectic schedule of a large household. The honeymoon phase is over, the kids are back in school, and with every task I take on, it’s hitting me: this isn’t going to be so easy.

It hit me as I stood in my driveway wrestling with the new stroller in a vain attempt to fold it up and get it into the back of the minivan in time for the baby’s doctor appointment.

It hit me as I stood in front of the gas pump and my moderately sleep-deprived brain tried to figure out which magic button to press to fill up said minivan.

It hit me as I was getting my hair cut and had to nurse the baby under the cape while at the same time trying to hold my head still.

It hit me as I washed the baby’s clothes for the third time in a week. And I’m still having a hard time remembering to carry a diaper bag everywhere I go.

In times like these, it’s natural to turn to prayer, but my prayer life has gone to the dogs too.

To avoid listening to the baby scream all the way up I-25 to school, I’ve had to ditch my CD of recorded meditations in favor of soothing music. And for now, it seems like I have to choose between spiritual reading and napping. Most days, the nap wins hands down.

Going to Mass hasn’t been too bad so far, but it’s hard to concentrate on saying “and with your spirit” when you’re worried about what you’ll do if the baby has a blowout.

Truth be told, it feels like I’m the baby — learning how to do everything for the first time. It’s like God has taken an eraser to the blackboard of my life and said “start over.”

But, then again, God always looks on us as children, not mature adults with mortgages, careers and social status.

Our comfortable routines and familiar surroundings mean a lot more to us than they do to God. As I struggle through each day, with formerly mundane tasks now ranking as huge accomplishments, I can almost hear him saying with a fatherly chuckle, “Veronica, remember that what I’m doing is far more important than what you’re doing.”

It’s not an excuse to get lazy or give up, but rather a call to   accept my new circumstances and do the best I can with what each day brings. It’s a chance to slow down the pace and re-examine my priorities.

The point was driven home the other day when I was standing in my kitchen at 6 p.m. wondering what to make for dinner. I was kicking myself for taking a nap that afternoon when I should have been out shopping for much-needed groceries. All of a sudden, the doorbell rang, and out of the blue, a friend of ours appeared with a delicious meal.

It seemed like God’s way of saying, “Don’t you think I know what you need?”

So, while I miss my routine — especially being able to shower at the same time each day — I know this phase will pass quickly and we’ll soon find a new normal.

Meanwhile, I can savor the joys of having a newborn, like the way they smell — that is, most of the time. Um, has anyone seen the wipes?

(Ambuul is assistant editor of The Colorado Catholic Herald and a member of Corpus Christi Parish in Colorado Springs.)