Wednesday, November 5, 2014

Our New Normal

I'm not going to lie.

This is hard.

I had forgotten what it's like to have a newborn constantly demanding things from me - feed me, burp me, change me, hold me, don't hold me, put me down, pick me up, bounce me, rock me, sing to me, don't sing to me...I am never satisfied but keep trying!

And then we have the toddler demanding things from us - hold me, take me to the potty, no I don't have to potty, give me a Skittle, I want some milk, a cheesestick, I want to watch Dora, no I want to watch Mickey, come to my room, I don't like my socks, go get Mouse for me, I don't want to walk, my seatbelt is too tight, I want some juice, with ice...PWEEEEEEASE!

There are some evenings when we get home from work/daycare, that I don't sit down until everyone has gone to bed.

It's exceedingly hard when Your Daddy is working.  He works the evening 12 hour shift, so he is gone 6p-6a three to five nights a week.  On his work nights, I am by myself, tending to both of you on my own, unless I shamelessly go over to your GiGi's house to spread the duties...I mean, love.  Totally mean love.

On Your Daddy's work weekends, I am spent by Sunday night.  I am so glad I have Mondays off work to recover.

There are always piles of laundry to be washed and folded, especially since JP has so very limited clothing options, and Brooke Allen only has three pairs of jeans.  Every night there is dinner and toy pickup, followed by pjs and bedtime stories.  After bedtime is bottle and dish washing, and whatever other chores need to be completed.  Your Daddy has stepped up his housecleaning game, and I am so thankful for that.


Somehow, a 7 week old baby has sent our world into a tailspin.  I feel like we are constantly trying to catch up.  Like a horse always trying to catch the carrot on the lead in front of him.

But this is our new normal.

And I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Because the toys all over the floor means we have an active toddler who has a huge imagination.  So huge she forgets where she is, and thinks she is in a castle with Rapunzel, or Doc McStuffins on duty, or Cinderella with a broken carriage.

The bottles in the sink mean we have a hungry, healthy, happy little boy who just wants to eat and eat and eat, and we are able to provide him nourishment.

The clothes in piles mean my family has warm and suitable clothing, and we don't have to worry about such a basic need.

The dust on the furniture means I found more important things to do on a Sunday night, like watching a movie on a pallet in the floor with popcorn and my sweet family.

The unmade beds are warm and well slept.  The diaper pails are full.  The fridge and milk jug quickly empty.  The pop tart crumbs grind into the carpet.  The trash overflows.  The dog constantly barks for food and water.  The storybook binding is breaking.  Brooke Allen's artwork has overtaken the fridge and dining table.  It's never quiet.  Always crying, squealing, yelling, laughing, or even just the buzz of the baby monitors.  Your Daddy and I have gone from long date nights, to date moments, stealing a few moments of kissing or dancing right in the midst of the mess surrounding us.

While my head may be constantly ticking down the list of things to do and clean and places to be, my heart is sitting right there, in the middle of that mess, watching...

Watching my children be happy, well fed, well loved, and full of life.

Watching my husband pour what little energy he has left after working into his children, and being the best daddy I could ever ask of him for them.

Watching my little family of four grow and blossom and be everything I have ever dreamed.

I love our new normal.

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