Rocking like a Hurricane

We are alive over here. We may be zombies with two black eyes, but we are alive. I feel like I have a lot to say but it's hard to find an eloquent way to articulate it all. My lack of eloquence has been a problem I've had for at least a year, but I'm finding it all even more difficult in the hurricane of two kids.

That's what this is, too. A hurricane.

You know when you have your first baby and everyone asks you how you are and you describe the whole experience as an "adjustment" and a "whirlwind?"

This. This is a hurricane.

But it's wonderful too. Because there's the fact that Georgia has only slept all the way through the night 3 times since we've brought the baby home, but there's also the fact that Ruthie only wakes up once or twice in the night to eat. There's Georgia practically killing her newborn sister by "dancing" with her, but then there's moments where the three of us play (well, Ruthie is forced to play) and Georgia laughs so hard she cries. There's me, not even allowed to push a vacuum due to c-section recovery going crazy because my tiny apartment gets dirty real quick. And then there's Scott who wakes up with Georgia, gets her breakfast, goes to work, comes home, gets everyone dinner and in bed and then spends the rest of the night printing tote bags or applying for jobs. There's frustration with breastfeeding, but there's satisfation in seeing a little milk drunk face and knowing I had everything to do with that. There's tears, but there is laughter. There is yelling, but I like to believe there are even more hugs.

When texting my friend Darcy about having two kids she told me there are higher highs and lower lows. I loved that. It has been the best thing anyone has told me so far. Because the whole thing is wonderful.

And it's also a hurricane.