There comes a point in being a mother to a toddler/preschooler where you seriously wish your name wasn't Mama. Honestly, my daughter says my name with the same volume and urgency whether it's a rush to go to the potty or she simply dropped her pancake on the floor and she needs me to come in from two room away to pick the darn thing up. Kid, it's next to our big toe. Pick it up.
It's like a game of Marco Polo but replace Mama for MP.
The newest thing is calling me to give me play by plays of everything she's doing. I love you, child. God I do. I incubated you gingerly and pushed you out. You can tell me during eats that the penguins surf on the comb and the water is deep and that Rocket reads the alphabet (favorite book). I seriously need to get some food on the table least we all starve.
It's also been hard on me as I'm hitting that point where I'm getting more tired. I'm at the point in my pregnancy where the contractions are getting stronger and my body is completely not my own. Add to this trying to juggle the fort and work and leaving DH to be so he can focus and I'm like a circus performer. Oh and I have my daughter's birthday to plan and prep for.
The idea of making skewered cheese and fruit sticks and flower patterned veggie credit sounds absolutely ridiculous now.
All this makes me again think, what the hell am I getting myself into? Being a mom to a 3 year old and a newborn! I know it could be crazier. The original idea was 2 years. Could you imagine? Some mommies here are on the 2 year track. God bless them. Some were on the Irish twins track. Holy moly! It's all kinds of fun though. I know the hardest years are the first 5. Then I'm told I get a small reprieve before the hormones start kicking into gear again. Joy. We'll get there smiling and chuckling most of the way, God willing.