Our third child was born six weeks ago. I have no explanation for the following things that have become the norm in our home since his birth, nor do I have apologies. Most of them were things that were probably already happening, I was just able to hide them better. I’ve just decided to accept that we’re going to be that family and observe the horror through the foggy lens of coffee and pilfered Halloween candy. It’s better that way, for all of us.
Our new normal looks a little something like this:
At any given moment you will see approximately seven shoes in my kitchen. None of them will match, most will be three sizes too small for any shoe-wearing member of our family, all will have been recently licked by a human.
Also, at any given moment you will find three partially eaten apples strewn around like so many land mines hoping to remain hidden until I have friends over, at which time they don sequined leotards and explode into plain sight, flaunting themselves like shameless shriveled apple show girls.
It is normal here to ask our guests to help us go potty. That’s how you know the tribe has accepted you as one of their own.
If you talk to me on the phone, be prepared to enjoy a conversation peppered with exclamations and demands:
“Yes, I got the email about the grant. I think it’s a great idea to you get that out of your mouth right this minute. Yes, container gardening is stop licking your sister. I’ll send you my edits to the grant as soon as I please don’t sit on the baby and I’ll let you know when we don’t paint my legs, please!”
It’s everything a conversation with a Tourettes patient should be.
This is a normal scene to encounter:
As is this:
Our new normal includes me feeling like I should be awarded many golden and sparkly accolades for such accomplishments as trimming all three children’s fingernails in one day and changing from one set of pajamas into another. I think we can all agree that extra points for re-application of deodorant are rightly deserved.
My new normal has resulted in a passionate love for store brand frozen waffles and a renewed devotion to my sick love/hate relationship with coffee. I live on coffee in a world in which I have no time to pee, so as Hamlet would say, there’s the rub.
Normal trips to the grocery store now include three ways of transporting children: one in a carrier, one in the cart, one on foot, none to be completely trusted, two thirds of which to be shamelessly bribed with cookies. We are a spectacle of cuteness, a parade of crazy, and I am Mrs. Mallard marching my ducklings through Boston!
And speaking of transportation, I drive a Dodge Stratus! (I’m important!) Therefore, we go Nascar on this B- and ride three wide everywhere we go, especially in the turn. Boogity, boogity, boogity and all that. (Be impressed that I know that many Nascar references.)
At times it feels as though my home has been overrun by tiny little terrorists, which is completely normal. I’ve come to embrace it.
Our new normal is chaos and crazy and completely wonderful. Ultimately, it consists of a lot of laughing, dancing, sharing, learning, and hugging. You know, the kind of hugging that’s sweet…until it isn’t because it’s a little too intense and somebody ends up crying.
So, what’s your normal like these days?