Dad home after a long day. He pulls off his coveralls and is eating a semi-warm dinner before leading the bedtime routine with these two.
My little girl has two tiny feet tucked under her like two little white roses. When Dad is home he always lets her sit beside him on the bench, rather than her high chair.
My little boy has wide eyes that I can decode with growing ease. The code is usually, play with me, sing with me, let me help.
I’ve had a lot of downtime these few months. Which is something I haven’t loved in the past.
Nursing every two hours means I sit a lot. I sit back and watch. It means I can’t be swooping in and wiping crumbs, reheating dinner, ushering kids to bed.
Maybe it took three babies for me to entirely appreciate the subtle beauty of what was playing out around me, rather than feeling anxious about everything (that I thought) I had to get done. Get it all done.
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