It's awesome and hard and storms and rainbows. It's totally up and down and I feel like I'm on speed everyday trying to get stuff done. But the stuff can waitbecause there's books to be read and cuddles to be had. Good times.
The thing I'm finding the hardest is getting ready to leave the house. There's getting Seb to go to the toilet and then dressing him while Daisy either cries or waits patiently. Then there's the dressing of the baby while Seb chills, and then promptly pisses all over his fresh clothes. So there's another outfit change. Then the baby shits and the cycle continues.
I get the baby asleep and the toddler occupied enough that I can get ready, while stuffing my face with a semi healthy breakfast *whatever is fastest* then the baby starts crying because the brother has taken her dummy while she was sleeping. Then there's some yelling about leaving the baby alone, then there's me throwing in the towel, piling us all in the car while I'm half ready and giving the finger to mornings like this.
A few hours pass and I'm laughing at the horrendous morning, my life now. I love it.
It's not so hard this parenting business. I remember it being harder with only one child. The days J is home are pretty cruisy but it's generally always 'mum,' I'm the fixer, the one they both want to hug, the feeder. I'm fine with this, dads are meant to be the cruisy fun ones but I want them to realise I'm the fun one too, they'll see.
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