Anticipating the First Day Back/Away (Or… Proof that I Suffer from Mom/Teacher Syndrome)

Today is a perfect lesson in the oxymoron that is my life.  While I have not updated my followers, I have spent the past months creating, growing, and meeting the unexpected miracle that is number four.  (More on that later, I promise.)  But for now, on to today’s post.

I have been away from work for eight weeks.  In that time, I have experienced an eventful hospital stay (including the amazing birth of a beautiful human being, frightening blood loss and painful procedures to make it stop, and a 5:00 am fire alarm), come home with a newborn in a snow storm (high stress for me), had oral surgery, and potty trained twins (most of the way).  An entire online class has been taken (final exam due Wednesday), my teacher book has been worked on, and the grades my long term sent me were always entered in a timely manner. I have cleaned out all of the cupboards in my kitchen and straightened the closets, vacuumed several times a day, and cleaned up continuous messes made by the previously mentioned potty-training twins.  I have sorted and packed up eleven Rubbermade totes of out-grown clothes and multiple boxes of too-small shoes, which I have toted to the shed (also straightened by yours truly in the past few weeks).

There have been countless appointments, forms, applications, and phone calls completed in this time.  Most difficult for me is the fact that I’ve been alone most days from sun up to sun down (or later) due to a husband who works so hard to help provide for us and had very little interaction with adults or the outside world.  I am a social person!  My children make for interesting company, to say the least.  To say I am ready to return to work tomorrow is an understatement.

But…

Tomorrow I will not be able to snuggle my tiny, warm baby or receive random kisses from my twins.  I will have to call or text to know how their day is going.  I won’t be the one to care for them if there is an accident or they get upset.  I will not be able to run to my first grader at the drop of a hat if something happens at school.  I will have to leave them in capable hands that are not my own, and though I trust the one who will be caring for them, it will not be me.

Tomorrow I will leave my house with a smile of gratitude to be going to something less exhausting and tears for all I am leaving behind.  (I may also be yelling something akin to “Free at last!” while sobbing and hiccuping.)

Y’all, please pray for me.

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To My Dear Hubby

Hummy,

On this, the eve of Father’s Day, I send you my love.  Someday there may be a little, tiny male to offset the excessive amount of female vibes in our house, but until then, thank you for being an amazing daddy to our collection of princesses.  Thank you for being patient (a lot of the time), teaching them to look for the magic (most of the time), and loving us (all of the time). We couldn’t be us without you!

Love,

Me

 

What’s in a Name?

To my beautiful daughters,

By now I’m sure you have realized that your parents bicker. We love each other very much, but all decisions are accompanied with a healthy amount of friendly discord. All decisions save one: your names. You mean more to us than any other thing we could have wished for. You are our pride, our joy, our sleepless nights (Mommy’s especially), and you are as strong and powerful as the women you were named after.

Madison, I dreamed of you years before you were born. I knew what it was to hold you in my arms, and in my slumber I called you by name. Your middle name is shared with your Grammy. She is a unique combination of love, strength, and courage. She would fight a grizzly bear to protect any one of you, and she would win. It is not by coincidence that you, our cowgirl princess, share her name. She loves all three of you so very much.

grammy

Makayla and Abigail, you were named after three amazing women. Though they left us before you arrived, you are their legacy.

Your Aunt Joyce taught me strength and dignity. She was long-suffering and spunky. Joyce shared a middle name with your Granny Bowman, who helped raise me. She was the type that thought babies were meant to be held at all times. She was my refuge. Makayla, it was with purpose that we gave you their middle name.

joyce      granny

Abby, when we learned we were having twin girls, we chose to honor the third of the matriarchs on Daddy’s side of the family. Your Aunt Marilyn was warm and nurturing. Living beside her when our marriage began, she taught me a great deal about how to be a wife and mother.

marilyn

My wish for you is that you all know that you are loved. Your names were crafted uniquely for you. They embody the strength and love possessed by women that have shaped your world. They love you beyond belief and to the moon and back.

Love,
Mommy