I am going to pay for this blog post at 11, when Snugs wakes up to eat. I will pay for it again at 2 and 5a.m. too, but screw it. I miss my blog.
Snugs will be one whole month old tomorrow. It may well have been the craziest month of my life. If you, unlike me, are in the habit of planning your children, let me advise you not to bring home a newborn shortly before any major holiday. Doubly so if it is a second child. Sure, there are lots of arms to hold the adorable new addition, and it makes great fodder for the annual family newsletter (yes, we do), but let me tell you; it ain't worth it. You may have the most adorable Santa pictures in the world, but they won't make up for that morning when you throw in the towel and have a complete breakdown in front of many visiting family members.
Also, you will be in every single photo anyone takes, in all your sweatpanted, messy haired, puffy eyed glory. Sweet.
You see, things I've taken for granted about the holiday season before - a total break from routine, irregular mealtimes, tons of junk food with nary an apple or carrot in sight, relentless travel and visiting - make for strange times when it comes to the younguns. Add a newborn to the mix, and you have a recipe for disaster.
Now that the holidays are over, things around here are slowly but surely returning to a new kind of normal. Chaos is learning that the tiny interloper in my arms isn't going to take me away from him, and together we are learning a new routine. There's still lots of time for stories and wrassling and snuggling and playing together. It's all brand new for all three of us, but we're settling in. In the meantime, I'll be taking lots of deep breaths, pawning the kids off on the nearest relative, and stealing the odd nap.
And writing, whenever I can.
Stick around. It's about to get interesting.
Also, if anyone has any advice on how to stay sane with two under two, bring it. I'm all ears.
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