The weekend started so well.
Relaxing and calm.
Ice cream on Friday afternoon.
Lots of time at home on Saturday morning.
The middle was lovely too.
Just the four of us. Doing our four of us thing.
I love our four of us thing.
And then, it began to unravel.
Littles took abbreviated naps… or no nap at all.
Parents had aches and pains in all of the normal baby-carrying places.
Monday morning loomed. As cloudy and grey in our minds as it turned out to be outside our windows.
I ended the weekend cranky. Irritated with the three that I go to to make up the four of us.
Collapsed on the couch in sheer mental and physical and emotional exhaustion.
Exhausted by this family life.
The exhaustion lingered as I dragged lethargic limbs out of bed this morning and fought with my eyes to keep them open.
So very tired. Still feeling raw.
I walked into the kitchen. Breakfasts to move along, routines to keep to, busy morning, as usual.
And then I stopped.
Giggling baby boy peering over the edge of his highchair to see his big sister, crouched on the floor, ready to spring up into a peekaboo.
My heart settled and led my body to do the same.
The aches and pains quieted, having found their purpose.