I've started writing a new post no less than one million times. But a small person continuously side tracks me and I either forget what I was doing, or get busy doing something else. Typically for the small person.
School's out for the Summer. I have no more free time and always have a child on me, near me, next to me, yelling for me, needing me or crying for me.
I love it. Is that strange?
I get frustrated and often dream of living on a desert island with just beautiful sandy beaches and a cabana boy keeping my fruity, umbrella drink cool and full. Then I realize that THAT would NOT be me. That isn't the life I dreamt of and wished for. This is the life I wanted and am so thankful I have.
The 2 year old that panics if she can't get a visual on me in less than a nano second, the 6 year old that throws a temper tantrum better than any child I have ever witnessed and the 12 year old who is teetering on no longer being a child but being a teen and experiencing using different tones when speaking with me.
This is my life.
And I love it.
It's been 6 months since our move. Hard to believe that is was 6 months ago when we quietly pulled out of our driveway and off of Noreston St. Jamie behind the wheel of the 32 ft Penske truck and me driving the mini van full of sleepy children and a confused beagle.
Ok. It wasn't that quiet actually. It was pretty loud and I'm sure the neighbors cursed us one last time and we rolled away.
But whatever. It's been six months.
And I can honestly say that things are really good. The transition has not been easy for me. The kids have done beautifully but their old mom has struggled. But things are wonderful and perfect. I have no doubt in my mind that we made the right choice and no doubt we are back home where we belong.
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