Evenings at Home

By the time the boys go to bed lately, I'm ready to go to bed myself. I'm just exhausted after a full day in my life sometimes. By the time Tomas gets home, we are rushing to get dinner done, get kids in the bath, get pajamas on, dishes done, kids in bed, then it's off to blog or edit photos, or maybe an occasional moms' night out with my girlfriends. After the boys wake up from their nap, the rest of the day seems like one big messy blur. 

But that's just this season, isn't it? A blur. Blurry windows from fingerprints, blurry vision because some toddler hid my glasses or is trying to wear them... blurry days because it all goes so fast, yet somehow so slow. The days are long, but the years are short. But even most days lately are short. However... if I stop and look at it, it's really quite precious, the busyness and chaos that are our days and especially our evenings.

Tomas comes home and the boys rush to him. "Dada! Hey Dada!" They pull him into whatever they're going, watching a show, playing with cars. He barely has time to give me a quick kiss and a hug before they're climbing all over him and trying to persuade him into the pre-dinner snack I already denied. 

I make dinner, and it counts as some of my quiet time, even though it's rarely quiet and I often still have at least one kid hanging on my leg. But I love to cook.

We eat dinner. The boys may or may not eat it because they're toddlers and their taste buds seem to change as much as they do, and as quickly as they do - daily. 

Then it's off to the tub. Tomas does bath time while I take an extraordinarily long time to clear the table, taking about 4 phone-check breaks, sitting at the table feeling tired but happy, happy but tired. Glad the hubs is home and I'm not the only one on duty. I'll turn some music on, start doing the dishes. Put the leftovers away, mindlessly singing along to songs I know backwards and forwards, listening to the boys splashing about 15 gallons of water onto my bathroom floor.

They clean up the bathroom, it's into pajamas and time for teeth brushing. Then the gates are opened and both of my littles come running into the kitchen, having picked up a toy on the way in, and they're drawn to the music. 

The next 15 minutes are a mixture of flying like airplanes around the living room and dancing to whatever I've got playing. One last ditch effort to get their energy out before it's time for bed. A couple stops in the kitchen as I'm cleaning up to unload a couple of the plates I just put in, or a stop at the dog to tackle and hug. Tomas picks up a kid, bounces him on his hip to the beat, the other dancing at his feet. 

Then it's off to bed. That is, off to their room where they'll play and squeal until they pass out on the floor waiting for us to put them back into bed later. And we're left with a few hours to try to have some time together, or do more work that we couldn't get done earlier, sometimes just enough time to watch a little DVR and enjoy each others' company before falling into bed and waking up to another blur of a day. 

And it's like this every day. We do this every day, the chaos, the baths, the flying, the tired. And we're happy, but so tired. Tired, but so so happy. And thankful for our evenings at home.