This morning in the intervals between punching the snooze button on my alarm clock, I dreamed. I dreamed that I had taken Sophie to school, and was at the doctor's office with Emma but realized that I had left Lili at home alone in bed sleeping. My dream self was all, "OH JUNK!" My dream self was racing home, certain that she had woken up and crawled off of the bed and broken her arm or something. My dream self never could manage to get home because of that doggone alarm which insisted on beeping every nine minutes.
This was most certainly a dream scenario. I have never actually forgotten one of my children, but there is an art to managing all of them, particularly when someone is unwell. I'm not sure I have mastered this art yet. When I was talking to my mom last night, I heard myself say (something like), "The difference between two and three children is the difference between busy and hectic." I'm pretty sure that's not a grammatically correct statement, but y'all know what I mean. I love having three children. They are all fabulous, but there is almost no down time for me. I have become a serious multi-tasker. It is never boring, and I never quite feel well rested... at least not so far. Some of this will improve as the girls get older, but for now life is both frenzied and fantastic all at once. And that's alright by me... pretty much.
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