Daycare has begun.

Well, I did it. I took the boys to daycare and didn’t have to be carried out screaming that I had changed my mind about sending them off. I only shed a COUPLE of tears on the way to work. All in all, I’d say I’ve done ok!

From what I hear, this guilt feeling is semi-normal. I’m personally caught somewhere between chugging celebratory wine because I get a few hours to myself and crying a river because my heart is not right next to me at all times now. You would think from ALL of my complaining that it would be strictly celebratory wine chugging but even with all of their uncontrollable crying and whining, blow out diaps and exorcism-like projectile vomiting, I could not love anything more. It’s obnoxious, really.

I don’t want to be all “you don’t know what it’s like until you’re a mom” because even when I thought I never wanted kids, that offended me for some reason, but when it comes to the amount of work it takes to raise kids (and I only have newborns!), it’s true. I honestly had NO idea the amount of work it would take and amount of meals I would be skipping (although my scale says differently) in order to keep these tiny humans alive. GOD BLESS the stay at home parents, guys. GOD BLESS THEM.

I was that stupiiiddddd idiot who imagined being a stay at home mom was sort of like being a Disney Princess, which is of course, why I thought I wanted to do it. I imagined cleaning my house while my babies napped peacefully. I would dance and sing around the house while sweeping and vacuuming every room each morning and preparing my little angels their first meal of the day with a huge grin on my face, smiling at how amazing it was to be me. I would go outside in the sunshine with the dogs and run them around so they were good for me all day and subsequently, get in a little exercise myself although I wouldn’t need it because my baby weight would fall off. I would always look good, maybe keep my hair in a nice top bun or a perfect braid to make sure it was out of my face to provide perfect kisses to my boys. I would put dinner in the crockpot so that when Brandon got home from work, we could enjoy a nice dinner together and talk about how our days were. My house would be spotless, my babies would be happy and my life would be better than Hollywood could ever depict.

L O L.

Reality struck down that insane dream almost immediately as the boys got here and I realized that I was not going to have peacefully sleeping babies, ever. EVER. I am lucky if I sweep and vacuum once every WEEK because my two babies want to eat every two hours which leaves very little time for ANYTHING else including running my dogs/myself which has made for very naughty dogs and very little dry wall left in my back room, not to mention my ever growing waist line. I haven’t done my hair since they were born and although it stays in a hot-mess-bun on my head, my boys still grab onto my frizz which makes for kisses that usually end in me pulling hair out of their little fists. I’ll surely be bald by the time they are one. I look good if looking good means being covered in dried bodily fluids with huge, dark circles underneath my eyes. By the time Brandon gets home, I’m begging him to take over so I can breathe and if he’s lucky, I’ll take the time to throw a frozen pizza in the oven before I retreat to my shower seat with a beer. I don’t know how his days have been; all I know is that when he comes home, he selflessly saves me regardless of it’s been a good or bad day.  He has the super powers of a stay at home parent for sure, but unfortunately for him, someone has to make money around here. My house is far from spotless, in fact, it needs more work than I can even begin to describe and my life sometimes feels that way too but my babies are fed, bathed and happy (for the most part) so I guess, in the end, I got one part right. The rest? Well, clearly I had never spent more than an hour with an infant.

Cue: part time day care.

I felt like a dead beat mom admitting out loud to Brandon that it’s something they were going to have to do. Here I have these beautiful little babes and if I have to stay at home for one more week  minute alone with them, I’m going to go INSANE. I felt like a failure, I mean, why even have kids if you are going to have to give them away to other people to take care of them for the week?


There is a reason that there is a famous saying about raising kids. It cannot be done with sanity alone. Can you tell I’m writing this just to make myself feel better?

I guess kids are always just going to be hard. It’s going to be hard to keep them home and just as hard to hand them off for the day and not call every 5 min to check in on them.  It’s so crazy that something so hard is something I could never be without anymore but I guess that’s life now; messy, chaotic, hard but over the moon in love.

Time to go call daycare to make sure the boys are doing well. It’s the first of many calls I’m sure I’ll be making today.

Wish me luck.

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