Sometimes the constant chatter and questions from her are overwhelming and her sweet voice turns to nails on a chalkboard and I feel like I might shatter if I don't get sixty seconds of silence.
Sometimes the baby laughs at me when I've done nothing in particular and I am overcome with what a simple, glorious gift my children are.
Sometimes I feel overwhelmed, not with the children, but with all of the other things I need and want to do in addition to the children. The children are not so hard, it's the other stuff that eats at my soul. I sometimes feel the slight edge of a panic attack coming on, a stupid panic attack about Things To Do that includes dumb and not-life-changing things like "schedule 6-month portraits."
Sometimes I get it all done and feel like I've conquered the world and I wonder what in the hell I was thinking yesterday. This isn't THAT difficult.
Sometimes I make a crappy dinner. A dinner that was poorly planned or a dinner that I forgot to defrost at a reasonable hour or a dinner that was new and maybe just kind of sucks. Spending time cooking a meal that isn't all that tasty is SUCH a disappointing way to spend the evening.
Sometimes I make a great dinner. I planned and I shopped and when I cook and it all comes together just as it should, I wonder why in the hell don't I plan meals more often. If I THINK about dinner, BEFORE dinner, dinner works out. AMAZING.
Sometimes I miss my job and I wonder what it would be like to work with two kids and gosh, all that extra money and health insurance sure would be nice and so would all of the time aloooooooone at my desk every day.
Sometimes we ride bikes and roll around on the floor and giggle and talk about things in our world and I wonder why I'd ever want to spend my time making PowerPoint presentations.
Sometimes I let the diapers go one day too long and then I find myself in a situation with only one clean diaper left and a pile of diapers to wash and I think, "Dammit I hate these f'ing cloth diapers."
Sometimes I get into a serious groove and the diapers are always clean and it's never a pain to wash them and I think I am pretty good at this hippie mom thing.
Sometimes I go run at the Y and I love it. I walk on the treadmill and catch up on emails and Twitter and the news. I run and then I walk and I push the incline up and down and up up up no that's too far doooooown. I feel pretty awesome after thirty or forty minutes. After two months of this, I am seeing significant positive changes in both mind and body.
Sometimes I skip the Y. I decide to run errands or hang out in my pajamas or finish my cup of coffee FOR ONCE OMG. At the end of the day, I always wish I had gone to the Y.
Sometimes I don't do the dishes, all day long, because I hate them and I know Chris will help me do them when he gets home, which is so unfair as I should just do them since I'm a SAHM now and I had ALL DAY to do the dishes but dudes. I hate the dishes.
Sometimes the baby wakes up from her nap and the way she looks at me when I rescue her from the crib makes me wonder why on earth I ever pondered the question of whether I wanted two children or just the one.
Sometimes I think about what college and retiring (will people actually DO THAT when we are old?) and health insurance cost and I freak the flip out and think we should eat beans for dinner for six months.
Sometimes I open the Amazon app on my iPad and I go on a big shopping spree. (Of very fun things like...bibs. And gifts for other people.)
Sometimes I think I have a really cute picture of the girls, but upon closer inspection someone is yakking.
(Someone is alllllways yakking around here. There's no sometimes about that one.)