It’s been 9 months since I left my full-time job to stay at home with my bugz. There are days when the 4 walls of our home drive me mental and I start to wonder how anyone could choose to stay home without some sort of wild incentive.

There are so many moments of daydreaming about teaching dance this fall…can’t it be September already??

There are days that drag on forever, trapped inside because no one wants to play outside where there are (gasp!) BUGS!! Or when I just don’t have the energy to drive into town, or to the city, to find an activity for us. Or I just can’t justify spending the money…or I just don’t want to.

There are also the days that are hard on all three of us because I am still so damn tired all the time, and I wish I could sleep all day while they played.

But then I read posts from moms who are getting ready to send their babies off to school for the very first time. My heart aches for them. If our girls had come when they wanted to, they would be old enough to climb those yellow-school-bus steps in two weeks. They would be gone, out of my arms and into the world.

Instead, they were born a week too late for the cut-off date. We get to spend one more long year together. I don’t really care what we do, or how long the days seem.

This is our last year together.

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