The new normal.

Here we find ourselves three months into life with two children, having nose-dived to this point if I were being candid.

How do people with multiple wardens do it?

One moment, I’m hovering around my two, radiating warm fuzzies, hoping they’ll take online college courses and live with me forever.

Next, I’m nursing a frantic infant as my toddler encircles us like a rabid dog, popping bubble wrap in my face.

Out. Get out. Everybody out now.Β 


This parenting gig, while extremely intense and tumultuous, is emotionally intoxicating and arguably one of the sweetest seasons of my life.

Yet, I think we can agree that there’s something about the three-month milestone with an infant.

It’s like I’m coming up for air, ravenously inhaling the hope-filled scent of a new normal.

Yes, Lord, yes.

Bring that new normal.

Like an unbridled mare, turning the corner to head for the barn at supper, I’m galloping toward it.

She smells the barn.

What is it about the new normal that feels like a warm fleece blanket around me?




I can nearly reach out and touch it.

And now that I’ve whispered these words aloud, any normalcy that’s been growing in our home has been stunted for eons.

As we await our new normal, these trends have emerged:

1. Β I hide in my car.

Say you do this too?

Because only there is it socially acceptable to restrain my children on a regular basis.

This is particularly helpful when the crying chorus of two commences promptly at 1:00 and 8:00 PM daily.

“Mom. Mom? Mom! Mom? Mom.”

I can only ask Andy to “look outside and check if Dad’s home” so many times.

He’s not on to me yet. And it buys me a good two minutes each time.

2. Speaking of minutes, I gots none.

For anything, really.

How do moms shower?

With their moby wraps on?

Is there a waterproof moby wrap?

I knew I’d hit rock bottom aesthetically when my sister-in-law demanded she clip and paint my talons toenails during her last visit.


Not your average spa day, Β but beggars can’t be choosers. πŸ’†πŸΌ

3. Now that you mention begging, I’ve been begging for a night nurse.

This piggy of mine Β is >99 percentile in girth and continues to awake for feedings 4X/night.

Mercy, mercy.

If anything justifies a night nurse, say it’s that.

Say it.

Say, meet Merlin.


Merlin has been recently snuggling our piggly wiggly through the night.

I desperately need a miracle from Nurse Merlin.

Merlin, Merlin, he’s our man. 🎢🎡

If he can’t do it. . .

. . .I may whisper unholy things under my breath.

4. As sleep continues to elude me, I’ve realized more than ever that it takes a village.

A village of CostCo.

Cheap and wholesome entertainment is hard to come by these days.

Of course, they stuff my child with free food samples.

But I also owe them all my thanks for any manners our toddler has—like proper etiquette with mini plastic sample spoons.

Now that’s a life skill.

So look for me at CostCo, with my kazoo band, wandering aisles as one of our favorite pastimes.


5. The most surprising trend emerging is how much little Andy loves his brother.

Too much?

Dare I say.

Often leaving treasures for him, and on him.

What gets my goat is when Andy interrupts my attempts to comfort Brooks by confidently announcing, “I’ll hold him.”

—as if he can do better.


Kids these days.

So, yes, I yearn for a new normal.

But for now, we eagerly wait.

I’m sorry?


I can’t hear you?

Speak up.

This is my new normal?

This is my new normal.

Awkward silence.



Oh my.

Then for the indefinite future, please find me in my car.


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