When you ask a person with small kids if they have any fun plans for the weekend, just so you know, for a split second they want to punch you in the neck. Hopefully they refrain, and then just laugh hysterically.

As hectic as the weekdays can be, at least they have some rhythm to them. The name of the game is to run around like a maniac until everyone is in bed and their your real work can begin, obvi. But weekend…they can be a challenge. Saturday mornings I find kind of rough. Usually Josh gets up with them (thank heavens) and puts in the first hour solo, then I wander downstairs and foolishly request a bit of quiet to drink 10 oz of coffee, to no avail. The kids are just so freaking excited to be here, to be around us, and while it is quite wonderful to be greeted with outstretched arms and (literal) screams of delight when you come down the stairs, I just can’t operate at this level of excitement at 7 am. It’s now 8:30 am, Josh has the two big kids downstairs, and I’m finally making headway into that coffee. Luckily I have only Hil in hand, and she oscillates between being absurdly needly and then, out of the blue, goes off and does her own thing. Right now she seems to have forgotten I’m here. She’s trying to put on Cole’s underwear and…reading. Seriously she opens a book, babbles, and apparently thinks that all books have a “noise, noise, noise” line, just like How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

Back to needy! Who actually needs a diaper change.

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