Now I tend to 2 children and attempt to make coming home a desirable thing for my husband.
And sometimes I feel that a successful day is being able to say I got the laundry from the washer to the dryer before the mildew sets in.
So blogging? That's about 10th in the list of things I feel the need or desire to get around to.
Roscoe is days away from being closer to his 3rd birthday than he is to his 2nd, and Everett is throwing me more curve balls as a baby than I ever expected a 2nd child to be capable of.
At 6 months old, Everett gets up at least twice a night and naps for an average of 30 minutes at a time, 2-3 times a day. That's an hour and a half total of napping time a day, if I'm lucky. And it rarely coincides with Roscoe's sleep. With the chiropractic visits the past couple weeks, we've seen an increase in Everett's napping, but it still isn't predictable. Today he napped for 1 hour and 15 minutes on his own, and I honestly barely knew how to handle myself. I was shocked.
I am tired. I would have never imagined that this life I live now could be more exhausting than the life I lived 6 years ago.
So, I'm here. But I don't write. Because from 7 am-9 pm, and sometimes still in those wee morning hours, there are 2 little tiny boys who constantly need me and my attention. And there is a house to keep clean. There are mundane daily chores. And when nothing requires my attention, there are books to read through and talk about with friends.
And there are so many things I would rather do than all of these. But somehow I'm content to not be able to do them. Because this is the gift of motherhood that has been handed to me. And it looks different in my reality than it looked in my imagination. But I am thankful. And I am blessed. And despite the fact that I feel like I have an overly precocious 2 year old and a baby who will never allow me more than a 4 hour stretch of sleep, I am lifting my hands in praise to the Father who gives good gifts, even if they don't look like what I want them to look like.
