Adoption.


We're thinking about it. I have no idea where to start, but I truly believe this is something we want to do. It's going to cost. I'm going to learn how to sew, so I can make and sell things. All the money I make will go towards adopting. I'm excited and scared.


That's all.

Monday


I'm aware of the negativity that faces Mondays. I believe it must be the most hated of all days. The first day of another grueling week for students, workers, and certainly, stay at home moms. The house is typically a disaster from the weekend activities. Dishes are piled up, dirty laundry fills every hamper and corner of the house, children are cranky from staying up late two or three nights in a row, and husbands run off and leave the mess behind for the poor little wife. We wives just know that this place that husbands call "work" is simply a beautiful mix of spa treatments, chocolates, and quiet time with a favorite book. An escape from runny noses, stinky butts and screaming toddlers of which they refuse to share. So, while my husband is at "work" today, I will slave away by running after and caring for three kids, 5 and under. I'll be doing dishes, catching up on laundry (probably 4 loads with some remaining), homeschooling the eldest, teaching the youngest that screaming hurts our ears, and convincing myself that the middle will survive two brothers and hardly any one-on-one attention. 


Here's to Mondays!






(Disclaimer: My husband is the hardest working guy I know and I'm so very proud of him. :-D )

4:30 am


This is the time my youngest, R, awakens. M, my dearest husband, gets up and brings him to me, as he always does. (My theory is that this is the only way I can function all day while caring for 4 other people, but more on that later.) So, I, in my desire to finally begin weaning him from his beloved breast milk, decide that this would be an appropriate time to start. What do I do? I get R's sippy from the fridge. Not a big deal. I figure, "if he drinks it during the day, surely he'll take it at night". But instead of R drinking his moo milk, he really wants his mommy milk. So, he squirms and complains. No crying - that would be way too easy. Instead, he kicks M in the face. Turns around,  kicks me in the face. Turns again, lays his head on my pillow and grants me a slobbery kiss, after I say "Ow", of course. At least the sweet little turd knows he's supposed to apologize when he hurts someone. <3 D & L have taught him that (because they are always apologizing!) 
Then, off we go into the living room. I warm his milk a tad under some hot water. He still doesn't want it. Something has to work to get this kid to sleep! 
He lays on the couch for a bit.
Nope. 
I hold him for a bit. 
Nope. 
Change his diaper and put him back in bed.
Out. 


6 am
Me - blogging - I've already had my coffee.....