This is the last email from a series that my friend Brookeand I were writing.
Dear Lunching on Brownies,
I like your food tastes.
Just Ate An Entire Pie
This morning Jude and Ian were crying at the same time, and Isaac said, “Mama, are you frustrated?” And I said, “Yes. Why?” He said, “Well, if you’re frustrated, just look at the cross,” pointing to the glittery glued-together popsickle sticks on the refrigerator.
Our schnauzer, Miles, just ran away (because our back gate had been mysteriously left open). For a second, I was glad. After about 30 seconds, I surprisingly panicked and started squealing out some really country dog-calls in the neighborhood. He is now safely slobbering all gleefully on my carpet at his recent escape.
All three of my boys slept about 45 minutes at naptime, and they are still exhausted. We only have to make 5+ more hours until bedtime – trying not to spend all evening in the kitchen staring at the sparkly instrument of death on the refrigerator for deep-breathing exercises. Five hours – that’s all.
Don’t wish these years away, you say? I know. I have two babies making each other giggle right now.
I’d have them put together a crying choir for just a few minutes of those giggles.