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Browsing Tag: routine

Couldn’t Say It Any Better

I’m in the midst of revisions for All the Difference (the book! the book! I’ve gone crazy and wrote a book!). I have about three more weeks until I’m due to deliver the manuscript to my editor, and just discovered that the changes I made aren’t as big as the changes I need to make, and oh my gosh, I have to get a move on. So I baked some cookies. No, I’m just kidding. I’ve been working like crazy, early in the morning and right after breakfast and whenever the kids who aren’t in school are playing quietly enough that I can concentrate and not feel guilty about neglecting tiny people. I bake the cookies while Saoirse’s doing her homework before dinner. Honest. What I’m really trying to say is that PANIC HAS SET IN. Overall, though, I’m feeling pretty good, other than the underlying current of that panic that’s continually coursing through my coffee-addled veins. Other than that. The big girls are settling into their school schedules, and I am thrilled to be in a…

From the Trenches

There are certain realities when you’re home all day with a baby, and it’s so, so easy to forget them until it’s too late and you’re pregnant again when you’re not in baby mode. They’re not ground-breaking, or mind-blowing, or even “Hey, whaddya know?”-worthy, but for what it’s worth, I’m writing down the top 3 of these realities that simply can’t be escaped, if you’re about to tread down a similar weary path yourself one day: 1. Breastfeeding exhaustion. I don’t mean it like, “Oh my gad can this kid EVER stop reaching for my boobies!” but more that you’re just…tired the whole year (or weeks, or year and a half, or whatever) that you’re nursing. I don’t really notice it until the baby’s weaned, and I can actually make it until 9 p.m. without falling asleep sitting up with my chin in my chest like my dad used to do in his recliner when he was in his 60s…

Getting There

We were tumbling out of Saoirse’s preschool after her class today, all four of us, a stumbling tumbleweed of winter coats and slow-moving children and a crying 8-week-old who just wanted the heck out of his carseat and a mom about to start sweating bullets. The halls had been crowded, adult conversations had been started but half-finished, and did I mention Cian was crying? I arrived later than usual today to pick up Saoirse, and had to park on the far end of the school, right next to the playground. It was a glorious day for late February. The sun was actually shining for the first time in what felt like weeks, there were birds singing in the bare trees. It was the kind of day that made you feel like you were overdressed and too warm, even though the temperature gauge only read 43 degrees (either that or I really was stressed out and overheating). Quinn and Cian and I had spent the entire morning at the grocery store, because I’m still trying to figure out how to work errands around breastfeeding and diaper changes and Quinn’s activities and…