Oh, my, we were extra today. Big activities, big emotions, big crashes. Kids were into everything, bouncing off the furniture, and unfortunately not bouncing when they hit the harder surfaces. I believe the refrain can be summed up by "giggle--shriek--giggle--stomp, stomp, stomp--giggle--thud--Waaaaahh!!" Grandpa had a lot of grading to do and I was completely frayed on all my edges. It was rough. I'm sure I was a bit too harsh in my "NOs," trying to keep grabby hands off of the Christmas tree, my candle storage shelf, or any not-child-safe bottle in reach. I had a post-bath girl in my lap, struggling to get a hairbrush through the tangled tresses on her head. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a chubby hand sneak out from behind my chair, towards the bottle of detangler spray next to me, and as soon as I said "no!" there was a clean snatch and dash into the bedroom. Boy knew exactly what he was doing, and now that they have gone home and things are quiet here, I can giggle about the cinematic perfection of the moment.
When I was first pregnant with my younger daughter, we spent Christmas out in Birmingham with my parents. One of my step-cousins came by with her kids who were a little older than my older daughter (who was one at the time). They were preschooler boys, and they rough-housed almost exactly like we experienced today. I have thought about that visit many times over my life, always thinking how glad I was that I had girls. Here I am with a future NFL star, and I can now say with confidence that the universe protected me by giving me petite girls. I would not have survived heavier, sturdier boys. Not then, and I'm not sure I will now.
I'd like to say I have time off to recover now that they've gone home, but it's not true. I have a lot to get done this week, before heading to Florida next week. We have been looking forward to this trip all year, but that doesn't mean I have all my prep done yet. I have loads of panicking to go between now and then.
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