Let's call it a day

One minute, I'm on maternity leave, living the life of childish, sun-kissed days, and basking in the option to go running until 8pm. In the blink of an eye, it's dark from 4pm til 7:30am, I'm up to my eyeballs in work, and the fresh produce and meat in my fridge seem to taunt me as if to say "Heh heh, you're not gonna cook US!" (and they're right).

Edie rocking her trademark red cowgirl boots
at the Festival of Trees

Life got intense quickly. I knew this would be one very challenging year - new baby, toddler, sole responsibility for 90% of daycare pick up and drop off, Dave's graduate program which requires many weekends at the library, not to mention training for a half marathon, and my newish full time job that is straight up busy.

Morning cuteness that melts my heart.

Those born of the Leonard clan (my mom's side of the family) can do busy. We were genetically coded to thrive amidst the crazy, the stressful, the challenging times. We are interested in everything. We commit to and hold ourselves accountable for a lot, both internal and external demands, despite our full plates (see half marathon training, above). My dad's side of the family are no less hard workers, but they generally embrace the slower lane, complete with tea breaks and afternoon naps. My Grandma Rita would've had you drawn and quartered if she caught you napping on a sunny day. She was a wonderful woman, but had incredibly high standards and, in her prime, had little tolerance for leisure.

Edie helps Emmeline snack on some puffs. She is so good at being a big sis.

Is it terrible that I dream of taking a sick day to curl up on the couch, to eat banana bread (that someone else baked) and drink hot chocolate (that someone made me) while binge watching t.v.? That sounds delicious.

Instead I orchestrate a symphony of getting myself and the girls ready for daycare. We leave the house armed with enough luggage to sink the Titanic, and hopefully our cat Frankie doesn't escape through the front door (we lose a few minutes capturing and tossing her back inside). Once in the car, I pass Edie her (dry) toothbrush from the front seat. We listen to Christmas music on Pandora on the way to school, and wave to the crossing guards. Once we've all disembarked the car, kids, gear, and moods in check, I think "This is not for the faint of heart. I wonder how a non-Leonard manages", I finesse a toddler (me: "C'mon! Off the jungle gym!", her: silent defiance) and a bundled-up baby into their respective rooms. Edie takes off her gear, scrubs in, and writes her name in the sign-in book.

These tasks would take an adult one minute, but add in the toddler factor and we're talking a good 20 minutes of coaxing and refocusing from the books, baskets of bean bags, what have you, before we get to the infant room; Edie always helps me drop off Emmeline. We take off our shoes, scrub Emmeline in, dress down, sign in, manage a day's worth of food, and kiss goodbye. Edie does quality control on all the infant room toys during this time, making sure their bouncy balls and pop-up musical toys are in good working order.

Attempt at multi-tasking doesn't go so well
- see the bottle not being fed? 

 

When I return home an hour later, I breeze past the (trashed) living room, clear out the sink, and let out a deep sigh before heading to my desk. Some mornings, when our routine has gone relatively well, I think, "Yeah I'm killing it! I fed, bathed, dressed, AND entertained two little ones, and got a few sips of coffee in between". Other days, the sheer energy it takes to get everyone where they need to be in somewhat sane order bests me. Kiddos - 1, Shawna - 0. It feels like I've worked a half day by 9am.

I know my woes are not unique. Every family on our street, in our town, anywhere have these days studded with minor chaos. I've lowered the bar in terms of what needs to get done in a day. If I eat a piece of fruit, go for a run, spend time on the floor with my kids, or have a decent conversation with Dave, it's a successful day.

The girls were largely unimpressed with the Claus family

Tonight I should've worked, but instead I went running with my mom, had dinner with Dave, and blogged. That's some good Shawna time, so work will have to wait. Until I'm staring at the piles of it tomorrow morning, stressed.

These are the halcyon years. The salad days.