50% of all Saturdays,
PTB heads to Ithaca for a sixth day of work.
He leaves me on those Saturdays with my three adorable children,
which is chaotic.
It is not chaotic with a baby. My baby is easy.
She sleeps. She coos. She eats. She poos.
My boys though, they are The Brothers Chaos. They own the word.
They get together with hours of unstructured Saturday before them and they slip into beast mode. Growls rise out of the depth of their bellies. They beat their chests with their clawed paws, gnashing their gangly teeth, communicating their plans for the day through grunts and beastly moans tossed back and forth between them to the rhythm of their thumping hearts. My living room becomes their dark forest. My (lovely new) sofa is their ship gliding deeper and deeper into the tangled forest and when the time is right, the moon bright, they jump from their ship to the forest floor. And Destruction (the proper noun version) ensues.
It's a long day teeming with noise, a desecrated living room, and the occasional break out of monstrous fights when the brother beasts turn enemy on each other and I have to mediate.
50% of all Saturdays,
I lose a little more of my sanity.
Hang in there, Lindsay....they will soon be bigger and better able to dress themselves, feed themselves....and DO CHORES! I know I did( in two spurts) what you are doing now, but it does look hard...can't believe i made it through. You will, too. I think you are doing a great job! Those kids are very lucky to have you. Mom/Laurie
ReplyDelete