It seems that once we were sleeping all night and eating real meals instead of bottles we were coasting. Sure, each day was scarily similar and I struggled with keeping everybody safe and keeping myself from getting frustrated/bored/envious/etc. but there weren't knock-down-drag-outs over toys that are neither new nor exciting. What exactly changed? Well, all I can figure is that baby Joy developed an opinion and she likes exactly what Ty likes at any given moment. Big brother Ty, (the Ty that we encourage him to embrace,) doesn't like Joy or her antics one bit. I'm sure he loves her.
I'm sure of it.
In his own way, he loves her. But he doesn't like her a whole lot and I can't say that I blame him since all she does (in his eyes, but also in real life,) is steal what he's working on. What he's poured himself into. And what he'd give his left arm to keep working on. She has no respect for his artwork. She has no respect for his car garage. She drags his blankets off his bed and then yells at him like, "LOOK AT THAT! LOOK AT WHAT I CAN DO! AND YOU'RE WELCOME!"
Basically when I would have normally taken pictures of something or thought of what I'd like to write about here, I'm running interference so no one gets hurt. At least not hurt bad. For the record, we don't let them hit or scream or kick or yell "NO" at the top of their lungs. But each of those things happens every day. It's one of the joys of motherhood.
Basically my life lesson in today's post is: This ain't for sissies. Let's go get 'em girls.