Still trying to find my way back here. Blogging is somewhat very self-aggrandizing and I’m not feeling too rah rah yet. And divorce is like the death of blogging.
Joe took the twins to their see their grandparents at the farm this week. They were over the moon excited to go. My mother in law bought the twins air mattresses to replace the cribs she had for them and when I talked to the kids this morning Reese went on an on about her new bedroom. She’s such a funny kid. Air mattresses are the coolest thing to ever happen to her, apparently.
I got these pictures today, and word that Ryan asked for lunch and ate a whole grilled cheese sandwich, two slices of cheese, half a box of graham bunnies, a bunch of grapes and two cookies. All things that may seem normal for a growing boy, but it’s not normal for my boy. Hearing about his eating adventure warmed my heart. I know it means he was engaged today, regulated, and that he’s relaxed enough to eat. I know it means he’s happy.
God I miss them. This is our fourth time apart. Ever. It’s weird for them to be doing things without me. So weird.
Lola stayed home with me because she is still not really walking (getting there though!) and she’s still the baby, for all intents and purposes. And when the kids are at the farm they ride horses and tractors and do all sorts of “big kid” things, she’s just not there yet. Almost, but not quite. So I get to play singleton mommy for a few days and I’m loving it while it lasts. It’s so different. My blood pressure at my OB appointment today was 110/60 and I joked with the nurse that it’s because my two older kids are on vacation.
Yesterday I threw off her schedule big time and the poor peanut napped until 7 p.m. as a result, so we went to a pub for dinner (keeping it klassy) and split a bacon cheeseburger. She got my bacon and I got her cheese. The damn place didn’t have highchairs, which totally reminded me of that movie with Reese Witherspoon where she’s all, “you have a baby!…in a bar” Totes me. Anyway, sans high chair meant Bean ate while sitting on my lap. She managed to sit in a regular chair for part of the meal, but couldn’t reach the table well. The cutest. Seriously. Once she finished her beer, we headed over to a friend’s house to watch The Bachelorette and she stayed up till 11 p.m. I feel like I’m on 16 and Pregnant with this kind of parenting, but what the hell?
Anyway, tonight I got a sitter and went with one of Lo’s therapists to a spin class at a new gym. First of all, damn, I love spinning. I felt (still feel, hours later) so, so good. Note to self: make room in the budget for a sitter so I can take spin once a week. Second of all, I realized that I have no life. Seriously, holy shit, people. I have no life. My kids are my WHOLE life, and I am not theirs. I mean, I kind of realized this after I went to Martha’s Vineyard last month and the Earth didn’t stop rotating on its axis, but the realization keeps punching me in the face.
I think I need to join something and meet people. Like get out and, uh, make something of myself. Maybe I’ll join a running club or something. How high-fashion would it be to run in an adult diaper? Don’t judge, four kids in three years and I pee myself at inopportune times.
So what does one do when the life they created ceases to exist? Obvi the kids are still priority numero uno. But now what?
