It's easy to feel like a complete and totally failure in this world of tiny squares of perfect lives - but I don't believe in that kind of crap. Seriously.
I'm ten weeks into this whole mother of 6 things, and ready to celebrate the little things, like how I made the bed this morning, and last week I taught my kids science. You have no idea. That's big.
This morning we decided to go skiing, and we were out the door in 20 minutes. 20 minutes, people.
Of course, we didn't pack a lunch, and so I had to buy $8.50 bowls of soup for the boys, but what's $8.50 between friends, right?
Also, while I swear I'm not hinging my self esteem on it, I can do up my pre-pregnancy pants. I don't really fit in them, but if I lay down on the bed first, and suck in really tight, I can do them up. Also big. I attribute it to belly binding, which sounds like torture, and it kind of is, but after 6 babies I've finally put all that relaxin to work, and dang it, it works! Now if I can only drop 50 lbs, I'll fit into my pre-Silas's-pregnancy pants, and then I will have all sorts of self esteem to brag about.
Also, I've made a few meals. Like real meals with cut up vegetables and cooked meat.
And I've taken the kids on vacation to the cabin.
And I've mopped the kitchen floor.
Rocking it, I tell you. Rocking it.
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