Oof

What, dear people of the Internet, do you think might be the least restful way to spend the summer? 4.5-year-old, newborn, no daycare, lots of guests, a house move, a piddling amount of money, and ALL the rain? Check, check and check.

By the end of it the newborn was suddenly very much a Proper Baby in the throes of the 4-month sleep regression (if anyone tells you this is not a thing, they lie). The 4.5yo had grown out of 90% of his clothes, thought up a whole new arsenal of smart-ass responses, and discovered the joy of Grandmas With Deep Pockets in the Lego Shop. Then as soon as he was back in school, we didn't rest, no we did not. We packed like the wind between the hours of 9 and 2, then spent the afternoons making the most of the late summer sun who'd finally decided to make an appearance. 

The end of the summer, and I'm tired to the bone. I try not to wince at the memory of the many days I was shouty, cross mummy rather than the kind person I want to be. Try, because I think it's okay to cut myself some slack.

Because, no sleep.

Because, despite my grumpiness and the excess of screen time, sugary cereal, and constanstly being told to BE QUIET OR YOU'LL WAKE UP THE BABY, we've somehow ended up with the coolest, funniest of Beans who simply sasses through life.  

Because all four of us managed to get to Copenhagen for a wedding on one sunny day at the end of August, looking vaguely presentable and with no one losing their sh*t.  

Because the comedown after months of flat-searching, penny-pinching, and CV-churning has been more of a crash landing than a slow and measured exhalation (who, pray tell, manages those with two small people anyway, even in the best of circumstances?)

I am waiting for that slow, bumbling sense of contentment, somewhere in the crannies of my chest. I'm waiting to feel roots start to furl out of the soles of my feet. I always do on the cusp of Autumn, but this year there's more to it. We decided to stay in Sweden after so many years of meandering, which has nothing whatsoever to do with a summer spent building Lego or pulling silly faces at the baby perched on my hip, but everything with the hours and hours we worked behind the scenes, all year. All the nights I lay awake worrying, well before the tiniest person in the house decided to add his two-gurgles' worth.

We have a garden now, for the first time in almost 7 years. Woolly sock weather is on its way. And that is about as complex a thought as I am able to hold in my head at the moment. Oof.