20 weeks on the outside means I am just tired. This whole two kids, working fulltime, going to the gym mama thing-- it's wearing me out, people. So much that the weeks are blending together and I am just glad we're taking a few pictures to mark the time.
I lust after the weekend all week long, looking forward to the possibility of more than 5 interrupted hours of sleep, the possibility of doing more with my time at home than simply feeding myself and the babes, and getting them into bed. Then it's here, that longed for weekend, and I work so hard to grab at life and fit it all in to those two days, while still managing to clean the bathrooms, that I'm more tired when its over than when it began. Sigh.
Nat noted to our Farley's friends on Facebook that "summer is never more than 9 months away." One month gone from it and I am full of yearning to have summer break back again... Perhaps I should begin to mark my time towards that milestone. By my count we're looking at the 14 weeks along...
In the midst of it the kiddos keep growing up. That's another regret about the weariness-- that I feel their milestones and miraculousness blurring by me so fast, that I am not there for it all, or not energetic enough to be a full participant. That I'd rather be vegging on the couch than playing, that I'd rather be asleep myself than rocking a baby back to sleep over and over again. When they both will be this small for such a short, short time. I'd like to get an extra wick to burn, so I can do it all for just a few years, please, so I can soak it all up the way I should...
Jack had his first day of "real" preschool today, the full 2 1/2 hours with no parents in the building. He went in and stayed happily and came home with a tie-dyed tissue paper hat (which was later turned into a hot air balloon to carry around his bumble bee. Of course.) and a copy of The Little Engine that Could from the school library (which was the ONLY book he wanted to read tonight). And he is just so grown up. He acts out dramas with his "fly plane" and the firefighter dinosaur and he collects rocks and seed pods on walks. He talks up a storm and refuses to listen and that charming smile of his! He is so handsome and funny and frustrating and perfect all at the same time, in all his boy-ness. With his big feet and his hair that won't lay down and the two temporary tatoos slowly fading on his forearms and the way he giggles when he runs. Even when I am tired and he doesn't want to go to bed, even when we have the same talk every night about why the lights need to be turned out, even when he wants me to help act out the same play scenarios on endless repeat or he won't get a move on so we can make it to the library or he refuses to eat his supper--- I love him.
The girl-- well, right now may not be the best time to update on her as I am blogging to pass the time while we listen to her cry. Trying and trying to get some semblance of good sleep back, some semblance of the way she slept when she was 7, 8 weeks old... no such luck yet. In the midst of sleep deprivation and frustration with a cry-it-out process that seems to be taking weeks rather than days to be effective, it is easy to lose sight of the fact that little girl is a remarkably happy baby all day. Content to watch the world go by from her bumbo or the beloved exersaucer. Ready with a room-lighting smile and furious kicking anytime we turn our attention to her. Always shiny-eyed and happy when she's outside. Last night she tried valiantly to roll from her back to her belly while holding her feet. She really, really adores Jack's bumble bee toy and she is ticklish and she has that squeaky laugh that's almost too much to handle. She's sort of this proto-person these days with a thoughtful regard for the world and an intense love for her brother (she seems to find him as funny as I do). She's a cute baby, that Ivy Jane. She just needs to sleep...
Me too. Goodnight all. Pictures to come tomorrow.
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