And, well, you know me, so you know I had to interject my own this-is-how-it-is-at-our-house opinion. And - yup - it's pretty much everything in this video. Mom: the great equalizer (unless you have a nanny then we all hate you. Except Princess Kate, who can do no wrong.)
Someone is always waiting for me to do something...
But if I'm going to be distracted, these are the best faces to be distracted by!
Someone is always needing me to do something.
Or get them out of somewhere. (This picture was also featured in the previous post but I felt it bares repeating.)
They do try their best little selves to be helpful.
I know you didn't really want all of this stuff here, Mom. Let me reorganize it for you. If it's spread all over the floor, you'll be able to get to it much easier.
Not exactly what I meant by "unloading the groceries."
Everyone's all like, ooo look at my garden with it's carrots and herbs and stuff, and I'm just over here like, yeah, well my garden grows ponies and mud monsters. (This was taken awhile back. Our Beginner's Garden has since been declared off-limits to small children, and subsequently sprouted cucumber and carrot plants. Woo!)
We have all these toys - and this is just a third...
But this is what's most interesting to play with. Only while I'm trying to do the dishes, of course.
...Or both are usually covered in something...
Coffee and wine are my saving graces, but would you believe this was the second time a giant Lego was dropped into my coffee? Hashtag: life with kids. Hashtag: this is why my parents hate me. Don't worry, it wasn't hot coffee. Moms only drink luke-warm and/or cold coffee, and that's if they're lucky enough to remember to get it out of the microwave after the third re-heat.
Someone is always demanding snuggles, but I'll take that over folding laundry any day. Especially now when they smell all sweet and wonderful and not like angst-y hormones.
Despite all of the furniture, I still manage to be the best seat in the house. I keep reminding myself that there will come a day when they won't want anything to do with me so I should cherish these moments.
I look tired because I am. My day starts at 5am and ends at 10:30pm and my house always looks like several tornadoes ran through it. While I may not get anything done, that doesn't mean I'm not always doing something; it must be Child's Law that states a toy becomes exponentially more interesting as soon as you're trying to put it away. And even though Zoey refuses to wear pants while we're at home, and there are times I don't change out of my pajamas for two days, I'm still faced with ever-growing piles of laundry. And since the children are always growing, and since we're poor as fuck, the kitchen is always open and I'm always cooking. But we're living. We're eating, drinking, sleeping, playing, laughing, yelling, running, crying, tantrum-ing, throwing, walking, sitting, dozing, laundering, cooking, reading, driving, traveling, and just being. We manage to keep the level of grime to a minimum and have settled on what my Father-in-Law calls the Lived-In Look.
I'm lucky enough to have a partner who understands why the house looks worse when he gets home than it did when he left that morning. I'm lucky that he doesn't get visibly mad when he has to search for matching socks at 5:30 in the morning. And I'm lucky that all of that is overshadowed by his 4-year old telling him (correctly) the difference between singular and plural words.