struggling

I'm struggling a lot lately. There really is nothing particularly rough happening, Josh and I are great, my job is going well, I have been finding little bits of time to do some sewing and play with the bread maker, Delma is becoming a very fun little buddy, and Mimi is finally becoming enjoyable and engaging. But. Our days are long, both girls are up before 6 every day. Mimi is still very time- and energy-consuming. Delma is a toddler, 'nuff said. Our house is in a constant state of disorder, which totally messes with my sense of calm and stability. I am in the worst shape of my life and can't (don't) find time to exercise. At the end of the day I have no energy to blog. The weekends are fun but are filled with errands and go too fast. We don't have a dishwasher, so, oh those dishes. And don't even get me started about the laundry.

I'm pretty much feeling like a hamster on a wheel. It's all just basic life stuff, I know, and it's not stuff that's going to go away. But I just feel like we can't stay on top of things, let alone ever get ahead. The daily grind is sort of beating me down. I'm looking forward to Mimi getting a bit older and us having some more breathing room in our days. I want more joy, I want to create more magic in our world for my girls. I want to create beautiful little adventures and projects and memories.

I need to make a pledge to my family and to myself, to make it happen. I need to make the time, even in small bitty doses, to do things for myself like exercise and sew and write. I need to do more than just *manage* my children, I need to do more to enjoy them. I need to make some joy and magic. Or at least try.

Happy Burfday to me

So, I'm 37. My birthday ended with Delma housing a cupcake (that she frosted and then decorated by herself with almost an entire bottle of star sprinkles), a Lindt dark chocolate truffle (that I only gave her because I thought for sure she'd hate it and spit it out), and most of my piece of chocolate cake (that I was too busy chatting with my dad to notice she was inhaling). She then spent over and hour and a half past bedtime singing and hooting and chatting to herself in bed before finally passing out. That girl can really rock.

Delly has a habit of saying "my" instead of "I." Like, "1,2,3 here my come!" Or, "Oooh, my like that!" In honor of her unique grammar and rock star lifestyle, Josh doctored a photo of Delly as a b-day gift for me:



Perfect. 37, here my come!