Friday, August 12, 2016


It’s inching closer, even right now. By the time you’re done reading, it’ll be even closer.  

And I’m not ready. Except I am ready. But I’m not ready. 

I had a rough spring. At the end of April, my spirit was a hot mess. I was exhausted all the time, short-tempered, depressed. The lack of sleep night after night, the grumpy baby during the day — it was taking its toll. 

But then summer came. And my girls were home. And everything was different. 

Life with Henry was also getting better, so I don’t want to discount that variable, but having them here during the day made me feel whole again. 

Things were certainly more stressful with two more kids who never, ever stopped bickering. I still lost my temper here and there, but my heart was happy. 

It made me realize how much I missed them this year. With Henry and work keeping me busy, I wasn’t fully aware of just how much until they were back home every day. 

I loved watching them navigate school and friends and mistakes and triumphs. I was proud and nervous and excited all at once. But it turns out, I was also sad. 

School starts in four days. 

My house will be cleaner. The bickering will cease. But the days will most certainly feel emptier. 

So, I’m ready. But I’m not. 

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