I am just going to go ahead and start writing to you like it's okay that I haven't posted anything here in almost three weeks. I am also going to refrain from apologizing, because, well, it's my blog, and I can do what I want to do.
Our life continues on. The days are a mixture of screaming and cuddling, puking and crying, eating and napping. I get to the end of my day, and it's like, oh-my-goodness-what-did-I-do-today. Parented. Cleaned. Cooked. Obsessed over E's approaching birthday party or that Josiah didn't poop, again. What I didn't realize about his parenting thing is that it's not just my body that I can't call my own anymore. It's not just my life. It's my mind, too.
And more than anything else, what always strikes me about this mommy thing, is that I live in it. I'm chin-deep in being a parent. When I worked or went to school, it was a big part of my life, sure, but then I could leave for a bit. Say, "excuse me," and go to a movie or something. But with kids, it's absolutely everything, especially because I stay home. This current season is almost mind-numbing in its all-encompassing reality. Two boys. TWO. Who was crazy enough to put me in charge of two human beings?