Bits + Pieces

I have to preface this post with a disclaimer that I did not sleep a wink last night so my thoughts may sound a little wonky today or they will be completely brilliant. Aren't your best thoughts the ones that keep you up at night? 

Like any other point of transition in your life, there comes a level or stress and over thinking in order to proactively make choices and quite frankly make sense of it all. Now that we are a family of four, we have decisions to make about how to keep things moving and the what's next. My maternity leave will be coming to an end before we know it and as sad as I will be to not have these quality snuggle moments with Hunter and the joy of picking up Sloane from school, I am very excited to get back to work. I love what I do and appreciate my ability to contribute my skills outside the home.

with this comes a whole other bag of tricks. Who will take care of Hunter during the day? Someone needs to drop Sloane off at school and pick her up late afternoon. Sometimes I feel like we are in the dinosaur ages with the school times. Without before and after school programs offered everywhere, how precisely is the dual working family supposed to do it? Oh right, we pay a boat load of money to have someone else care for our kids and pray to god you live in a good school district where someone can physically walk and retrieve your child. 

so.... I make homemade ice cream. When I start to feel pressure, I clean like a tornado and bake the hell out of everything. This ice cream is nothing but healthy goodness so it's all good. 

Then in my fit of cleaning, I come to the conclusion that our house is no longer working for us. Our main floor has a wacky layout that makes it feel small while our upstairs is like a mansion ( not really, I'm most definitely exaggerating) but it's a hell of a lot more open. 

by the end of the day, I am frantically flipping through magazines to feel inspired to rip this house apart and then have a cup of coffee and think- we should just move. 

my poor husband, I know. He thinks I'm mental. But he knows my fits always turn in to something magical. I think I am going to soak in a long bubble bath and let my thoughts fester for a little. Then have a civilized conversation with my husband on... Where the hell do we go from here?

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