It happened this weekend. After months of relative calm, it hit. Right between the eyes.
In only four months there will be two children under the age of two living in our house. Not only will they be living here, they will be under our care.
I think it has something to do with all the new babies in blogland, but I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about life with a newborn lately and I can’t tell you that that thinking has left me feeling anything but overwhelmed.
I know, I know, this is hardly a surprise. We painstakingly planned this and we’re thrilled for all that is to come, but we had a moment this weekend. More than one moment actually. The kind of moment in which the dog is whining and the Yogi is pointing aggressively into the kitchen while chanting “bapple, bapple” on an endless loop and with escalating volume and you just cleaned up from lunch (which you didn’t get to eat) and you haven’t slept for more than four consecutive hours a night during the last week (WHAT is going on?!!) and all you want is for everyone to just.leave.you.alone and it hits you that for some reason you decided to do this again.
There were tears.
Happily the sun is shining today and for an unknown reason that has nothing whatsoever to do with getting lots of sleep last night, the world feels a bit brighter.