Evan was awake before the first alarm (the first one is set for 6 am) this morning. YAY! My almost 8 month old wakes with the chickens anyhow & Daylight Savings Time just added to the fun. Actually, it wasn't that bad this morning. Normally, school mornings are utter and total chaos (when it comes time to remove eyes from the cartoons & get ready) at our house. However, this morning started out different. 'Started out' being the key words in that statement.
It was daylight outside so, when I went to open the curtains and do our morning ritual of "wakey, wakey, rise & shine", I added how it was a beautiful morning outside and said, "look Woog, it's daylight!". Boom, he was up and at'em. YAY, for real this time. I was all, "this is way too easy. Where's the hidden camera & Ashton Kutcher?". Surely it's clear that the sleep deprivation over the last almost eight months is taking a toll on my mental stability? Who am I kidding? Mental stability, schmamility, I gots none of that.
***DISCLAIMER: YOU KNOW YOU'RE A MOM IF... YOU START SOMETHING FOR YOURSELF & IT TAKES A MINIMUM OF 10 DAYS TO GET BACK TO IT. I started this two Mondays ago.***
The morning went superb. I was astounded at how beautifully the morning was going.
***DISCLAIMER #2: YOU KNOW YOU'RE A MOM IF... YOU START SOMETHING & IT TAKES YOU FOUR MONTHS TO GET BACK TO IT & THEN, WHEN YOU GET BACK TO IT, YOU CAN'T REMEMBER WHAT YOU WERE DOING.***
I can't even remember what happened but, considering the greater part of what I post about (and what I will be posting about today) is relating to my life as a mother, I'll finish this post. Wow, it sure feels good to finish something. I know, I know, I'm not there yet....
On a side note: I think I'll start a regular post about "You know you're a Mom if". Yes, IF I remember... Don't expect a post for at least four months.
Evan is ACTUALLY napping & I've got my workout in so, chances are, before I finish this, he will wake up so, I'll TRY to be brief.
My sweet chunk will be one year old on Saturday. Yes, HUGE, enormous tears are flowing. I can't believe it. It's bittersweet. My other little darling will be six on August 26th. If you know me, you know that I love my babies. You know that raising my children is my job. No, I don't mean that like most people; I love my job. Raising them is what I do. It's what I breathe. I do not come first. I don't "work" like most people. I don't get off work. I do not get paid for services rendered.
I do however, get tired of people asking me when I am going back to work. It's irritating to say the least. I try to be as polite as possible, but that statement is completely demeaning. It happens AT LEAST once a week.
Raising my children is the most important job that I could EVER have. I will never be able to get back their childhood. SO no, to most, I don't work. To me, I'm always working. That being said, I think I sacrifice sanity. Just a touch, but what's a little sanity in the grand scheme of things?
In case you were wondering, Manic Mondays aren't as bad as they were....
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