On and off all morning, my tot was fussy at daycare. She was tired and kept telling Whitney that she thought her sister wanted to go home... Code for "Get me out of here.". I am very light on staff at work, so I sent Joel. He had no sooner gotten her, than she was acting 100% better. If I hadn't know she had a fever, I would have sworn she was playing hooky...
I left early to take over for him, so he could go back to work (there's no rest for the self-employed...). She and I hung at home, then we went to get her sister and grab dinner.
For over an hour, they alternately fought with each other and the dog. Dinner, dessert, toys... Everything was a battle. I recruited them to help me move more of their toys to the new playroom, and it was time for Lilah to go to bed. I check in with Joel, and he will be at work for like 3 more hours. Um, what?! Like I said, no rest.
Got Gabs settled into bed an hour later, and am so thankful she immediately passed out. Momma needs a little break this evening.
Then, just as I was about to leave the room, I looked at my babies, asleep in their beds. (They are really the most beautiful when they sleep.). For a minute, nothing else from the day mattered. I didn't care that my hair looked awful all day, that I am tired and so so sore, that my house is an absolute wreck from the room-shifting and lack of time to do anything this week, or that I spent the better part of the night taking role-call (yelling for whichever child isn't within my line of sight as we moved the toys). All that mattered was their cherubic faces. They were safe in their beds, each holding a stuffed animal, dreaming of whatever an almost 2 year old and 3.5 year old dream of.
And that's how I knew the day was a success.
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