I quickly put the older two in separate spheres to rest after I got the baby down for a nap, in hopes I would be able to write a little. But, it looks as though a little girl is awaking and I'm left with another toss that idea out the window.
Mothering is so parallel to convening around the table. We can slave in the kitchen, even follow the recipe to a "T," and still end up with sour faces pretending the meal is decent. While in reality is a blunder. I have these expectations of being able to steal away some me time. I can easily get frustrated and become short with Tay as she makes her way downstairs for the third time during this "short" rest time. Or, I can choose to stick with being consistent, yet calm & loving to redirect.
So here's to a mismatched dinner, knowing there is a feast amongst the peasant meal.