Time really does fly doesn’t it?
I mean with wings and all!
One day it was Baby Girl’s 5th birthday and the next we are in August and I’m going through their closets to determine what is needed for back to school.
Back to the regular routine and rushing the girls every morning to get ready…
Arguing about clothes, breakfast and moving just a little faster.
We’ve had a really good summer, I guess that’s why I’m having a hard time thinking about getting back into the school routine.
Maybe it’ll be me that has to be told to hurry up and eat my breakfast on that first day.
Some days I feel frustrated. Raising two kids and working full time. Trying to make sure my family is happy and secure. It’s not that I don’t want to do these things, but where is my time? When do I get a chance to just unwind and do something that is strictly for me? It seems as if I never have the time to do the things that I want to do; like write more often. Maybe even start a business. Sometimes I’m just too tired at the end of the day, that it just seems better to give in and give up. Between these feelings and then the guilt that follows, I feel unsettled and definitely frustrated.
Then I have a day like today. A beautiful day, not too hot, but just hot enough. Diva girl wakes up, and asks if she can go to church with her nana. Baby girl doesn’t cry when they leave, she just wants to go outside to blow bubbles. It’s 9 am on a Sunday in the middle of summer…why not? We blow bubbles from those dollar store jars of suds and she chases them and counts them…”1, 2, 5, 8!” After 15 minutes, she’s bored and we go back inside so that I can start cooking and she can change her dolly’s diaper. She sings and rocks her dolly to sleep and comes to tell me that she’s making dolly soup. Why not…?
When Diva girl gets home, we have lunch and then we try our best to conquer Angry Birds on the tablet. At five, she is already kicking my behind. The TV is off and the windows and doors are open. The girls are playing and arguing….but what else is new? Then they make up and we dance to a silly beat that they make up using unsharpened pencils as drumsticks. We read a book, I change diapers and soothe hurt feelings and kiss boo boos. We laugh, we hang out and my girls jump on me for tickle time.
What the heck is there to be frustrated about anyway?