Some form of whiplash

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Well, the boys are definitely back! The energy in our house has changed dramatically, and while I'm so happy to have them home, I realize how "on" I feel when they are. That pressure doesn't come from within, or at least it doesn't now. It is a direct response to two very bright, extremely talkative, whirling dervishes who spin constantly, whirring out questions, comments, narration, ideas, requests, demands, pleas, negotiations and so forth in every direction. I feel like one of those cartoon characters with oversized ears who is trying to catch 85 different falling objects as they plummet towards him. In the cartoons of course, the character uses feet, hands, head, whatever, and always seems to catch most everything. In real life, you just get by as best you can without the aid of magic limbs. Jesus, I'm tired already.

It's like a slight form of whiplash, emotional whiplash, and sometimes these feelings really make me feel like a sub-par mom. I just do not want to be on all the time. I was so desperate to see them yesterday, but I'm so shocked by how amped up and, simultaneously, tired I felt by lunchtime today. And then I realized there are three weeks of summer left, and I wish so desperately that part of me didn't dread that time, but some part of me does. It was so nice to have time this past week to not rush, to not hurry, to not stress about fitting everything in, to be able to stay up late without the horrible knowledge hanging over me that that was a dumb, dumb decision because the early wake-up the next morning was coming so soon, to think and read, and hear my own thoughts, to finish sentences and conversations without interruption. All of that is infinitely harder when the kids are here. That's parenting I guess, but I still wonder when it might seem more balanced, a bit less intense. Will it? When? I guess I just need to get back into the groove.

Kids, fish taco salad, torte

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It was so fabulous to see my little boys round the corner at the airport. They looked so big, as if they'd grown in all sorts of ways in these last six days. Ooh, I just inhaled them. My mother should be sainted for flying them home. They were delayed repeatedly, and she was such a sport. I made my fish taco salad and a Huguenot torte for her, all wheat-free per her allergy. She's sleeping soundly, as is Ol. Jack couldn't nod off so we just cuddled and told each other made-up Angry Birds stories. They LOVE the playhouse so I think we'll be out there all day tomorrow. Off to bed!