I feel like of someone said I'd have a year at home with my 3 kids, a long hot summer, that I'd make the most of it. That even with covid restrictions we'd have the BEST time and we'd make so much stuff and just laugh every day.
But it hasn't been like that. I'm constantly battling to not shout at DS who won't do his school work and Dbabies who pull hair and won't lie still for nappies and are so heavy it hurts my arms grappling with them.
My walls aren't festooned with art work and creations. When they're actually not needing me to intervene, remove one from somewhere too high or off atop of another or I'm not changing or feeding or schooling one, I feel like I can't move. I'm rooted to the spot, unable to create this amazing childhood.
But then how is that a suprise? I've never been the Mom I imagined, everyone imagined. DS was petrified of everything when he was tiny so we didn't do messy play and arts and all that and now with twins and homeschooling (our bubble burst Sunday) I just, can't, I feel so overwhelmed I don't know where to start.
They're so dangerous.
They eat anything, climb anything. I spend their days counting to nap1, policing their craziness before someone gets hurt, counting til DH finishes work, hiding to make dinner. Hiding eating chocolate when I'm already fat enough.
Why aren't we making dens whilst the babies sleep? Oh yes because I'm still bleating on about number lines and it'll make mess and it'll wake the babies of o go upstairs and they'll just roll all over them and add to my expanding washing pile.
No outside time, it's damp and windy and they won't stay in bouncers and they can't walk and it's too damp to crawl and they'll go on opposite directions and eat matching worms.
And I'm so tired because I can't sleep because I can't turn off my brain which whirls and twirls and screams and shouts. And if I do, someone will scream on their sleep or cry for a drink or a missing teddy so my brain stays on, knowing that there won't be peace.
So yeah, how was yours?