what a difference.

14 months and 2+ weeks. That’s how old the boys are and I had to actually look at a calendar and do math to figure it out. That’s a big change from this time last year when I knew how long they’d been here down to the hour, pretty much. Then, I was counting the amount of time we had survived. Now? I’m just in it.

Don’t get me wrong, this shit is still hard but I’m getting better at it. At least, I think I am. I care less about my perception as a mom to anyone else and more about making sure I’m keeping some form of sanity while enjoying (surviving) the two curly haired, wobbly-legged toddler boys who OWN me. My house is never clean and if you don’t like it, you’re more than welcome to clean it. Really, I’ll pay you in wine. The boys have recently started acting as my vacuum, eating cheerios off of the floor that the dogs missed but it’s fine, right? It’s good for the immune system. When people ask me if the boys are walking and I reply with “nah, not until I stop pushing them down”, I do NOT care about their look of horror in response to me keeping my kids back physically on purpose because guess what? They aren’t the ones who have to wrangle those toddlers walking in opposite directions. (Side note: it’s not working because the boys have both officially taken steps as of yesterday)

It’s so funny to look back on blog or social media posts and remember how absolutely awful the first few months were and be amazed at life now. Let me repeat: I am still accepting wine and babysitters at all times. It’s still a literal nightmare sometimes but I think that I can actually handle it now.

Last year, I wasn’t asking for help like I should have been because I wanted to make it seem like I could handle my own kids. News flash: I can’t. They are INSANE. This year, I call Grammy or Grampy on the reg, asking if they want some baby-time because it’s been an hour and I’m DONE. That’s what grandparents ARE FOR.

Last year, I was worried about when I would fit back into a bikini. This year, I bought my first ever tankini for this gloriously destroyed mom-bod and I’m continuing to thoroughly enjoy the Oreos that it’ll cover up. Who has time to worry about a number on the scale when your kids are LITERALLY diving head first into the bath tub, getting more concussions than an NFL player? My cardio these days consists of intervals that correlate with how fast I’m having to dive to save a kid from killing themselves.

Last year, I was still in pain from the pumping/breastfeeding and wishing we could skip to a year and get to the meals I could just cook up for them. This year, I’m missing my pump because there isn’t enough food in this dang house to feed these boys. I once read that toddlers eat less because they want to be playing? Welp, that was a straight up google-lie because these boys do NOT STOP. I need to hook them up to a funnel and just pour it in, it’s absolutely outrageous. I don’t know where it all goes considering we are at a staggering 17/22 lbs…. so much for mamas NFL dreams…

Last year, I did not think I would make it out alive. Really. I was terrified at what we had gotten into and if I would ever feel normal again. Brandon and I were both SO tired, still lost on the whole “new baby” thing (x2) and desperately hanging on until better days. This year, are the days better? Eh. The days are really, really long but they are now filled with twin tickles and giggles that help you get through the next minute, at least. I’ve learned to accept my chaos and even embrace it and thrive off of it. Or, accept that I’m not above my chaos and call for backup immediately. Depends on the day.

One thing I know for sure is that it was hard then, it’s hard now and it’ll continue to get harder as the years go on but with each phase that comes, you enter it a little stronger than the last. For the women without kids and new moms that I have sent into a panic, you really will be ok. Don’t listen to me or anyone else who tells you it’s hell because although it is (sorry), you really will be just fine. Think of all of the people who have MULTIPLE children. There must be SOMETHING amazing to it, right?

I’m mentally preparing for the new-walker phase which I’m sure will be filled with our fair share of calls to the dr asking if we should start concussion protocol, skinned knees and mama kisses to make it all better. Before I know it, I’ll be dancing with them at their weddings, wishing to go back to … oh nope, I’m crying just thinking about it. Dear God.

.. as always, wish me luck xoxo

 

 

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