Doodlebugs.

(Do you remember doing this as a child? Making castles out of books, opened and stacked on one another?)

Couchmonkeys and doodlebugs. That seems to be my refrain these days. Ever since the miscarriage in August I've been fighting a fog…it took a lot of effort to get out of bed each day and carry on. It does not help that I've had post partum depression before…this was much deeper waters. Much deeper. There were days of darkness that I took to quoting snippets of Psalms I could remember in my head, just fighting against the mist. (Which, I think, I should do everyday- speak Scripture into my day, a constant prayer. But I digress.) Odd as this sounds, the very laughter of my children caused pain simply because of the laugh that would always be missing from among them.  But lately, even in the face of a lot of personal craziness and uncertainty, the fog has lifted and the sunshine is streaming back in. Or more accurately, the sun has always been streaming in through the windows, and I am able to see it again. A shadow falls occasionally. But I feel the warmth again.

But I don't mean this to be a sad post, because it isn't. I guess it's just a marker. I was here. Here is what I know. What I do know? I have suddenly entered the large family logistics reality. David is eating full table food at each meal, and he's honestly eating Lorelei under the table. Recipes that used to work just fine, laundry that could stand to go for a few days, and a loaf of bread that lasted longer than a meal suddenly don't. All of the sudden I don't have leftovers and the food just seems to be diminish magically. It's made me laugh out loud more than once a couple of times this week. I can't be in denial any longer, I can't keep acting like Mt. Washmore is suddenly going to disappear. On a good day, my whole family clothed makes one load, easy. On a bad day of playdoh, mashed potatoes, and dirt, it's two to three, no questions asked. It has been cracking me up. It's like the laundry crawls under the door! I finish that last load, pull it out of the dryer, fold it. And I dare crack a smile…."there, it's done." {The first fatal mistake, but hey, I want to live in denial, right?} Turn around, and whomp. There's all the clothes from after bath getting thrown over the stairs. And the bread! When did that happen? By the time I make four sandwhiches at lunch, there's just enough left over for a sandwhich for me and a heel or two. Wha?!?! 

Ok, ok, I admit, I admit! I am a momma to four doodlebugs with messes the size of Texas.

And loving every minute of it, too.

(I am thinking with terror of  three adolescent boys a few years hence. I think I should start saving for the food bill now, right?)