Normal used to be waking up at 4:30am. It was dropping my kids off at 5:00; it was being to work by 6:00. Normal was fixing everyone's problems, filing, emailing, tracking, smiling and nodding politely. Normal used to be grabbing the kids, seeing them and the husband for a few hours, sleeping and repeating. It wasn't a bad normal.
But this is better.
Normal is now juice and milk and Doc McStuffins during breakfast. Normal is puppets, books, and blankies. This is the new routine:
And yes, that's Hannah throwing pebbles at her brother through her legs as she hangs upside down.
These are the faces I spend my days with:
And this is what we do all day:
And here is us practicing our future career as baby models:
Hannah is not so good at working the camera yet. She's too busy sliding, swinging, and causing trouble.
There are tantrums too. There's tears, wooden spoons, and time outs. Hopefully, those will lessen as we learn how to be stay at home mommies and somewhat civilized little human beings.
I was afraid to stay at home with them. I was afraid that we wouldn't have anything to do, that we would be bored, that I would be overwhelmed by the hard moments and lessons.
Noah and Hannah have been the least frustrating part of this whole frustrating move. The appliance guys, and the mortgage guys, and the crazy cat lady, and the utility guys, and the church folk could all take a few lessons from my little munchie munches: Be decent and give lots of snuggles, and the mommy on the edge is much more manageable. ...
Not saying I need snuggles from the appliance guys. That would be weird.
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