Man, I am so tired.
So ridiculously tired.
Even with the intense fatigue, there are moments when I feel like I have it together. Like last week, I actually remembered Summer’s gymnastics class and managed to get her there.
1. We were 15 minutes late.
2. She was wearing a sundress (instead of a leotard or leggings or something that would actually enable her to perfect her Mary Lou Retton moves).
3. And as we arrived, I realized that I had breast milk all over my skirt.
But still. Summer was there. So if she doesn’t become a Olympic gymnast, it won’t be on my back.
On Saturday, I found myself ALONE with all four kids. For the entire day. Rick had to work and I tried to get a babysitter but I quickly found out that sitters don’t like working weekends in the summer or they want to be paid 1.5 million dollars an hour to work on a Saturday. And since 1.5 million dollars an hour is a little too steep for me, I found myself going solo in the care taking department.
When Rick walked out the door, I started crying. I was scared. Petrified of a 5 year-old, 3 year-old and newborn twins.
I decided to take all four of them to our pool club (because I’m insane or because I knew I could beg strangers to help me if things got really hairy). We got there at 4:50 pm which is a whole 10 minutes earlier than I got there last week so I’m obviously getting the hang of this.
And it all went pretty well and I felt sort of empowered. Empowered and very tired. But I can do this. Even if I have to do it with breast milk on my skirt.
And at least I didn’t have to come up with a Father’s Day gift this year.
Chase and Harlowe are way better than any cologne or tie or coffee mug.