Well, I was wrong

Our routine the past few weeks has gone something like this:
Wake up and eat breakfast, depending on my level of discomfort and lack of sleep a lot of times it is Gabe who gets the kids food and into the bath. Then he's off to work and I let them play until there's an altercation or too much water on the floor.
Then we do hair and get dressed and we more likely than not venture out for some sort of activity.
Sometimes it is water cups from Sonic that Roland is convinced is soda and the park.

Other days we get a bit more adventurous and head to the zoo or library.

And at least once a week it is to the store for groceries and othe necessities or the Dr's office.

And then by the time we get home I am utterly exhausted. We eat lunch and then veg out for the rest of the day with books, toys, and Netflix/Hulu.

Gabe comes home to a messy house, kids who want his attention and a wife who is either laying on the couch trying not to loose the contents of her stomach or making dinner.

I initially felt guilty for this routine, and then Wednesday I became really sick and the past few days I have managed to get to the point where both kids are fed and dressed. Then I become an extension of the couch as they run around like little curious tornadoes. At lunch Gabe comes home, gets them food, cleans up from the morning mess, and then he's back to work. When he comes home he takes the kids, I fall asleep and wake up in time for dinner, then the kids play or get on the tablet until bedtime. Then I go to bed with the kids and wake up to a clean house all over again.

I don't know what all that guilt was from before. I was doing great.

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