Routine? What's Routine?

Hubby is home. He has been for a few days now.

The Kiddos adored him for about 5 minutes and then the sandbox won over their short attention span.

That was a good sign. No freak-outs or melt-downs or clingy attachments. Although I have been quite bluntly informed that only Daddy is allowed to push them on the swing. I'm okay with that. I sit back on my butt and take pics while he does all the work!

Each day has become randomly filled with chaos and living, with our only routine being breakfast before 8am and bed by 7pm. (Okay in a perfect world it's 7pm. And sometimes our world hits the perfect mark. Only sometimes.)

It's different with Hubby home.

I'm used to doing it all and being in high gear. But I can breathe. And yet I'm still feeling geared up.

Granted this is only the second time we've had to do the swing from single parenting to pairing off.

My mind is taking time to settle.

A little more than I anticipated.

But heck, I usually don't anticipate change.

It just shows up like a cousin from out of town that though you're happy to see, you weren't prepared to blow up that mattress in the middle of your living room for two weeks. And while the company may be great it takes a couple of days before you stop stubbing your toe on the misplaced coffee table and forget about the extra toothpaste drool in the sink.

Adjusting.

Not my strongest character trait.

No complaints here. Just stating the facts.

I like this insanity of ups and downs and randomly fun days dropping everything to go to the Beaches or practicing "yoga" with my Sis on a boardwalk, skinny jeans on and Starbucks in hand.

Don't get me wrong. That's awesome at awesomes best.

I'm just learning to let go of set plans.

To be FLEXIBLE.

...Shudder...

I hate that word.

And though I don't mind the complete and utter lack of routine, flexibility? Well that's entirely different. At least in my mind.

Right now I'm a bit of a jumbled mess, and while I suppose that being who I am, I will always be a messy sort of a gal, I am aiming towards functionality, calm and altogether understanding that I need to enjoy the journey even if the sideroads are a little rough on the backside.

My backside can handle it.

Reaching The Finish Line.

Daddy comes home tomorrow!

Woot Woot!

It ain't been so bad.

I've found a groove for the most part and between grandparents, friends and parks we've had a blast.

Minus this morning.

I managed to gouge my eyeball in a sleepy state with a freshly filed nail and had swelling, tears and what looked like a detached retina. (But I'm not a specialist. Hell, I thought that The Princess bit off the end of her tongue the other day and had an ambulance come for a chewed grape and small nip that bled excessively.)

So to add to my itching, stinging, fake pinky-eye looking nastiness I forgot to warm up my vocal cords.

Note to self:

ALWAYS warm up vocal cords before screaming at children to stop screaming and behave. Otherwise you won't be able to yell for the rest of the week and you will sound like a thirteen year old boy who hit puberty really damn fast.

Yes. I sound like a thirteen year old boy who hit puberty really damn fast.

Not sexy.

The Hubby will love it... "hIiI bAbIIIIieE." Yeah...

We've had leaping off picnic bench contests...

MOPS and church and sleepovers...

Lunch with a fab group of moms who rock.

Some hot ladies in that group!

We have kissed new babies.

Bossed around cute boys.

Tickled chubby legs.

And ate at McDonald's more times than I want to own up to.

It's seriously embarrassing. Especially when I talk crap about their crap all the time.

If only Subway restaurants would have play places. Then I could go on talking crap about crap without being a complete hypocrite.

Tomorrow.

One more snack time. One more dinner. One more sleep. One more breakfast. One more playdate with Noe and Popops and then Dadddy will be home.

And it will all be done in MIME. Since I have no voice.

Detoxing...

I went to a funeral today.

The third loss since November.

I hate funerals.

Yet I love the chance to honour those who were amazing, cherished people.

I swore I wouldn't cry. My Sis swore she wouldn't cry.

We lied.

I loved these people. They mattered whether distantly or directly and their absence is a void.

George was only 50.

A few weeks ago his family didn't know there'd be a chance he wouldn't be here.

Marina his wife, and his kids were a massive part of my childhood.

Their kindness and unfailing tenderness was memorable.

I dare anyone to say that they could be as generous as this family. And still have the humility of a true servant heart.

Well, the funeral service ended. Amidst tears and laughter for a beautiful life and legacy, we packed into the foyer.

The one that my siblings and I terrorized as small children.

The one where I first saw The Hubby after years apart.

The one where I said goodbye as my Dad moved on to pastor another church.

It felt smaller.

I was hugged by people whose smiles were what triggered my memory.

Faces that at first drew a blank, brought a flood of recollection when they shone their bright and unique grins.

I had a rich childhood.

The love this large and extensive group of individuals brought to my life helped me become who I am today.

In all honesty I saw Christ's love again and again and again.

And even still I needed a detox.

A lunch with Sis at a fab french restaurant (Coquine) on Young St. was nice... but the edge was still there.

You see there's a hurt that settles in along with the loss. A depth of love for the families remaining that makes breathing a little harder and tears a little more ready for the falling.

Yes.

I know that God is ever faithful.

Yes.

I know that God is still Omnipotent.

It just sucks.

And for a short while I need to let it suck. And then I need to let it go. And trust that God can deal with it. That God can make the hurt subside. And He does.

It just takes the time to detox.

...A walk by the lake is a good place to start....

...The Hubby is still away for another four days but I think his son is growing to be his mini-me even more that I thought.

I put The Prince to bed and when I went up to check on him I found him snuggled in watching Astro Boy on my Mac.

Insert The Hubby for the child and you have the exact same image I walk into sleep with every single night....