Thursday, February 24, 2011

3rd Time Around

This is our third time around.  I can't say it's a charm.  I'm not really sure what to call it.   Our first time bringing a child home was more of a cautious experiment.  This time it's more of a total lack of caution.

I think back to that precious baby boy over seven years ago.  If I remember correctly, we actually rinsed the paci when it fell on the floor.  I'm pretty sure he was dressed, out of his pajamas before 10:00am.  And I'm fairly confident that we even had something called a schedule - play time, snack time, nap time, reading time.... I even remember that at dinner time, he had a separate meal catered to his desires until he was about 3.  Granted, we deal with food allergies, but seriously?  The world revolved around him.  The sun rose and set on his precious dimples.   

Seven years later, plus two more babies, boy have things changed.  "This is what's for dinner kiddo, eat it or go hungry."    "Paci fell on the ground you say? Great! soil has great probiotic qualities.  Throw that sucker in her mouth!  Besides it's her fault it fell anyway.  Time to teach this 6 week old personal responsibility."   "I don't care -- you better get back in bed!  You know you are only allowed to get out of that bed if someone is bleeding, or if vomit is involved!"

Forget daily baths.  As long as I can't smell them when we are sitting at dinner, we're good.  Never mind, that precious Sweet G had a bath every night with toys and bubbles and quality time.  Nowadays, we'll take quality time on the couch and forgo the efforts of baths if at all possible.  Really, I feel that if we can get them in pajamas and in bed without tears (I'm talking about me crying - who cares if they are) and with no major injuries and sufficiently fed (never mind if they ate it off of the floor or a china plate), then the day is a success.

So today, I sit and type.  Baby girl is swinging from my drapes in a t-shirt and a diaper.  Wild man J is screaming his version of "rock and roll" while, of course, in his PJ's.   Laundry is piled at the foot of my bed (I know, shocking isn't it?).  There is cereal on the floor.  And dishes in the sink.  The day begins.  Hopefully, by tonight, my children will get bathed, we will avoid too many snacks picked up right off of the floor, and perhaps even get our bedtime devotion done with a quality prayer time.  But regardless,  we will make it through.  We've managed this far...

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