|This is what I wake up to more often than not these days. It's not bad at all, really.|
As I mentioned the other day, we've been looking at ways to become a bit more financially stable this year, and one change we have considered is pulling Evie from preschool and letting her hang out at home, instead.
Already, though, she is home with me on Wednesdays, and every Wednesday I hope it will be AWESOME! and by the end of every Wednesday I am wondering just who the hell I think I am to consider cutting even one more day out of her preschool schedule. No, that's not true. By lunchtime every Wednesday. As in, before lunch. Like, maybe an hour or two before lunch. Yeah. That's more like it.
It isn't helping today that I've got a bit of a cold and less than zero motivation to play toddler pretend birthday snacktime pony princess tea party for two hours straight, interrupted constantly by requests for more juice, more chocowate milk, Mommy come here! Mommy WATCH!! Mommy, more snack, more trweat more bwanana PWEEEEASTH??!!
Toddlers = not my forte. Toddlers = the cure for my wish for more babies. Almost. Okay, not really. But they do appeal to the logical part of my brain, and quite eloquently, too.
I love my Eve Adele to little bits and pieces. I want to squish her and cuddle her and kiss on her glorious warm soft cheeks forever. Really. She drives me crazy, though, just like her sister did at this age. Crazy. Really. Ugh. And this is the part where my brain wants to tell me that I suck. Hey, Brain: NOT HELPING.
I know that 90% of the ten people reading this are moms. So, toddler advice? And don't say "bourbon," because good grief, I'VE TRIED.