After having family over for dinner last night and having a late night with Jackson, I woke up to two baskets of laundry to fold and put away, pocket diapers to stuff, clean dishes to unload, and dirty dishes in the sink. I don't mind clutter, but I get very anxious when things start to pile up downstairs.
Jackson got some kind of stomach bug yesterday and it continued through the morning. He barely slept, which meant I barely slept. I knew school was out of the question once he started sobbing and moaning, "I don't feeeeeel good. My tummy hurts." He then proceeded to get sick. A few hours later he came downstairs fully dressed and said, "I ready for school." When I explained that he wouldn't be able to go to school, he cried and yelled at me.
In addition to overwhelming amounts of housework and a sick Jackson, James was fighting sleep something terrible. I have zero tolerance, compassion, empathy, or patience when babies fight sleep. I don't get it. It frustrates me to no end that they won't just give in already. It gives me a headache to hear screaming and crying. (Katie, I was ironically trying to read "She's Gonna Blow!")
All of this was before 10 a.m.
Despite a hellish morning, we were able to have a calm afternoon. James eventually took a two hour nap. Jackson's nasty diapers tapered off. Clean dishes and laundry were put away. We even managed to be silly, dance, and giggle. The babies are so much fun babbling and grabbing one another, and Jackson is such a proud big brother.
I've been known to repeat, "You can do this Katie," to myself out loud when things get particularly tiresome. Breathe in, breathe out and do it all again tomorrow, right? You got this!
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