I don't know about everyone else's neck of the woods, but Fall seems to be trying to show it's face around the Tri-Cities. And the restless menfolk are starting to gravitate more and more to the Man Cave for football games...at least that's what I'm assuming is going on down there. They could just be grunting and making fire. What happens in the Man Cave stays in the Man Cave.
Anyway, I'm assuming this means I'll have more time to sit here in the silence and blog.
And, honestly, I'm a little hesitant to write a status update because things around here generally seem to be going really well. Wouldn't want to jinx it.
Fine. Twist my arm. But if Bailey starts waking up at night or coloring on the walls, you're to blame.
This week has been a break from my workout routine, which usually takes up three mornings a week. I thought I was going to get to take advantage of all that free time to knock a lot of things off the to-do list that have been sitting there for months...But, the kitchen is still half painted and all the junk drawers still contain the same level of junk. The mud room is no more organized than it was a month ago and I still haven't managed to throw away a single tube of Audrey's lip gloss. (Thanks again, Uncle Joe. I'm sure you had no idea how sticky and glittery it was when you bought it.)
I guess some people would see my lack of productivity as failure, but I'm going to go ahead and give myself a high five anyway because I blew it all off to have fun.
It was all a sacrifice for the children, of course. Anything to further their development.
We've had some sort of play date every day this week and it has been fantastic. Kap and Ollie are in town too, so the girls have gotten to see a lot of friends and family they don't regularly see. As an added bonus, I've gotten a lot of fellow Mama interaction, which anyone who is a Mom knows is pretty vital for survival in this line of work. It's nice to talk shop with other Moms, get advice, dole out more advice than you probably should and eat snack foods all morning.
Since John and I have decided we're done having children for the moment, it's also nice to live vicariously through those Mama's who have younger children than I do or are planning on expanding their families. I love hearing new baby names and finding out who has been hiding in those pregnant bellies. I adore squishy newborns, and squawking 9 month olds. I love the chaos of having oodles of screaming children loving on each other (or wrestling as a means of conflict resolution...sometimes it's hard to tell the difference). I also like knowing most of those little ones have parents to go home with. To be honest, sometimes I feel like I'm still waiting for Audrey and Bailey's real parents to show up. Like I could seriously be responsible for another human's total development. Who thought to put me in charge of that?
Speaking of wonderful baby news, our friends Jessica and Matt just found out they're having a baby boy. I am so excited! Mostly, I am thankful that they are having a beautiful, healthy baby, but also because I wanted to know who exactly was in there. Little Falcon (yes, that's what I'm referring to him as...and he should just be thankful he didn't turn out to be a Swanhilda) is going to be so loved and I am going to have to show some incredible restraint on the shopping front. Since my babies are no longer growing out of their clothing size every few weeks, I've been finding the compulsion to buy copious amounts of sweet teeny tiny outfits almost disturbing. I guess this would be Auntie fever?? Someone help me out. Is there a cure? God, I hope it's not terminal. What if John comes home one day to find me suffocating under a pile of baby clothes that fell off the top shelf of the closet?
I should probably store them in plastic tubs...under the bed so I don't trip and kill myself. Geez, this Auntie stuff is more dangerous than I realized. Maybe they need support groups too. We can meet at my house whenever the Seahawks are on. The men will be in the Man Cave eating nachos and shaking their fists at the TV. They'll never know we football widows are the ones having all the fun.
...but seriously. Send help. At this rate I'll be dead before the kitchen gets painted.
*photo credit: Seattle Urban Media
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