Homebody

Each night after the kids go to sleep I have a list of things I need to accomplish. I thought I was ahead of the game tonight. The most time consuming thing, making bread, was practically done. All I had to do was punch down the dough, put it in bread pans, and bake it. Other than that I needed to do my post for the day and fold three loads of laundry.

I decided to fold first. I was afraid that if I sat down at the computer to write that I wouldn't get up again.

And so I began to fold.

About halfway through the pile in front of me I noticed I was moving slowly. Really slowly. And my jaw hurt. And my shoulders. And my head. And my back. Instead of taking an hour, my job for the night took two.

I finally ambled in and scrounged some acetaminophen off of Bryan (the big bottle was in our bathroom, which connects to our bedroom, and I didn't want to wake up Phoebe) and tried to put away the finally-folded clothes.

What I couldn't figure out was why I hurt so much. I had a good night sleep last night, so it wasn't from being tired. Other than a walk to Peter's school and a few times up and down our stairs I hadn't done anything particularly strenuous.

And then it hit me: we went to the library today.

Cooper loves to run away from me, especially at the library. Peter often does it too. That means that in order to leave with some shred of sanity intact (not to mention with books and all of my children) I have to be able to grab both boys at a moment's notice. Carrying Phoebe in the Baby Bjorn has been my trick to making this happen. But my sweet girl is getting bigger. I've known that our time with the Bjorn was limited, but I'm afraid she may have outgrown it. At least that's what the majority of my muscles are screaming at me right now.

And that means I'll never be able to go anywhere with all three children ever again.