I started the week determined to be back to normal. I ended the week taking a 2 1/2 hour nap this morning. I’ve nearly given up on the cleaning/organization that I’ve been planning to do until the baby is old enough to feed herself. And I’m reminding myself that even though it feels like it was ages ago that I had the baby, it actually hasn’t even been three weeks yet.
So. Normal. What does that even mean these days? How would I even know if I made it there? What is normal with three kids? What is normal when your oldest child starts school in less than a month? How would I recognize normalcy when I’m stumbling, bleary-eyed, through half the day?
I suppose when the baby can spare me for a 6-mile run I’ll be on my way there. When she isn’t draped over my shoulder in a sling like a purse whenever I go out (or even when I’m just making dinner). When Squish is fully toilet-trained. When we have dropping off and picking up Manchild from school solidly in our schedule.
Which is to say: it could be a while.
But that’s okay.
Normal is totally overrated.