Where is that music coming from? Who is talking? All my kids are asleep and the TV is off. Only thing I should hear is my A/C running and Avie Lou snoring in my lap. I’m officially going crazy. It’s day 6 of sick kiddos. That means entirely too much sleep lost, an insane amount of worry and stress, and a touch of back and forth around the house. Eyeroll. I still don’t even know for sure what kind of junk they got- could be the rona. Whatever it is can get on outta my house. It’s killing our summer and its beautiful vibe. Oh, I love summer. Ha! I used to love summer. It was only a few years ago I could grab my sweet tea, some tanning oil, my beach chair and a book to go sit in the yard in my hiked up booty shorts and spaghetti strap enjoying the sun and heat and quiet. Baha! I almost dread when it’s a nice enough day to get out there with these 17 Harrell kids. There’s no sitting still to enjoy a good novel. There’s not even any sitting still. I’m chasing twin toddlers around, keeping them out of the road and rocks out of their mouths. My big boy is into all the stuff that will get him hurt, so it’s a constant “don’t do this, don’t do that” until I’m just done. Then we pack up all the sippy cups and mama’s cup and snacks and inside toys and begin the dreaded march of wailing and dragging toddlers up the concrete steps and porch and into the wonderfully cool house that nobody wants to be inside but me. My days are full, even when we do nothing. My hands are full, though my children can all walk. My life is crazy chaotic, and no one believes it because I handle it all so well. Another eyeroll. I love being efficient. I love plans. And I adore my kids. But twins. I could stop there. It’s more than just another child. I don’t even care what other people think anymore. Twins alone are harder than having 4 singletons. It’s friggin hard. You can’t argue with me til you have a set of your own, that are sick at the same time, with big brother. But oh how I love being mommy. I was gifted with the three most precious beings this planet could hold, and God let them call me mama. My dearest Clark, my first, my best boy. And my two-at-a-time girls who I prayed could have just a little of me in ‘em instead of all Daddy like brother. Between Laura and Avie, one got my looks and one got my attitude. Did I mention I love being a mommy? Their mama? It’s the best. My heart is so full with love for them, even when they’re wiping snot on me, and cry-screaming in my face for no apparent reason other than that they’re sick, and I’m their mama. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Venting with love