I should be going to bed now but...I feel like talking to someone, so, yeah.
Unfortunately, you're not a real diary and this is a sorta public forum so I can't really spill all my uncensored guts, but I can tell you this.
I'm still not used to taking care of my kids all day. Being a stay-at-home mom is still hard. Noah still has times when he screams and cries the entire car trip home (for no apparent *good* reason). Judah has all kinds of ridiculous phobias that defy logic and strip me of sanity. And I still can barely hear myself think when the kids are around.
I fantasize about the day when Noah is 2.5. No more stranger anxiety. He can watch a video like his brother. They might even play together. And definitely no more nursing.
In fact I'm holding on to that bright and shining day like a beacon in the night. In a stormy night with pounding waves that toss me under like a rag doll before I can catch a breath.
Oh, and what else...
I've started drinking a giant mug of coffee in the middle of the day. It helps.
My kind and thoughtful friend lent me her double-jogging stroller this week. I jogged with it once. It was awesome.
My reward at the end of a long, hard day is listening to Chris Rice albums as I wash dishes and tidy the playroom. Not exactly putting my feet up but I'm starting to accept my role as a 16 hour a day menial house slave. I don't glower as much as I used to.
If ever there was a time I needed to practice being positive and grateful, it is now. Giving thanks is no longer something 'nice to do' for me. It is the difference between life and death. Between despair and hope. Between sinking and staying afloat. Because my goodness how the storms rage on.