I suppose since I don’t really yet know what the why of this blog is going to be, I will at least start with the who. And the who starts with me.
I’m Astrid. I turn 30 this year. I’m trying to find myself again. Circumstances being what they are, I quit my job recently to stay home with my kids. Let’s just say it wasn’t my first choice. I do love being a mom, but being a stay at home parent does not come naturally or easily for me. I’m desperately trying to hang on to the pieces of myself that exist separately from my children, but it’s sometimes a struggle to make space for that when I’m up to my ears in tiny socks and cheerios and diapers.
I’m married to Kyle. Mostly happily. It’s been seven years, so far, with another four on the other side of the rings. He is… an odd duck, to say the least. Some kind of eccentric genius or something. I’m here at home so he can go do amazing things. And he’s doing amazing things, so at least that’s paying off in one way. We are weird together. And also separately. There is more to our story, that I’m sure will fill up a post sometime when I have nothing else to say.
Tycho is our first. He just turned four. He is weird and wonderful and often challenging and completely himself. He loves sports, most of all baseball, cars, trucks, planes, all vehicles, really, dinosaurs, any animal you can find at the zoo, cats, LEGO. He has encyclopedic knowledge of Star Wars that may have been encouraged by us, but really is all his. People always observe that he is “all boy” but he wears pink socks with kitties on them and likes me to paint his nails. He has been trying to drop his nap for a year now, but most days he doesn’t make it and falls asleep in random and amusing places. (He has his own hashtag: #sleepytycho.) He still can’t say his Ls. Never a dull moment.
Atlas is the baby. Probably the last. Definitely, if you ask Kyle. I was mourning it before he was even born. He is perfect. He won’t be perfect forever, and he’s not really perfect now, but he is a little ball of sunshine. He can be exhausting and frustrating in the ways that all infants can be, but unless it’s 3am, he’s mostly just wonderful. And too big already.
Those are the key players. Maybe a real post soon.