Just shy of three weeks into this new chapter, it finally started to feel like we were finding a routine. Not a perfect one. Not a polished one. But a rhythm of some sort. And when you have kids—especially kids adjusting to big life changes—rhythm and consistency are everything. They are so underrated, and so incredibly important.

Now that everyone has their own room and beds, sleep has been getting better for the most part. Yesterday, everyone stayed in bed until 7:00 a.m., which felt almost miraculous. Of course, it also meant the morning was a little rushed.

Breakfast was simple. Cereal and blueberries for FD6. Cereal and banana for FS3. FS15 slept in, which works for him since his online school schedule is a little more forgiving. Then came the usual morning checklist: brushing teeth, getting dressed, doing hair, and trying to get out the door on time.

But there was one big win.

We FINALLY got FS3 to at least sit on the toilet.

If you know, you know. Sometimes progress doesn’t look flashy. Sometimes it looks like a toddler sitting on the toilet for ten seconds while you silently celebrate like you just won the lottery.

We had minimal meltdowns until right before it was time to leave, when FS3 suddenly wanted mommy. Those moments are hard. He is so little, and so confused in his own head. He doesn’t understand the layers of adult realities or court systems or why life changed. He just knows what he feels.

So we do what we can do.

We give extra hugs. Extra reassurance. Extra love. And we keep trudging forward.

School drop-off for FD6. An unusual tearful daycare drop-off for FS3. Then off to work.

The morning was packed with meetings and tasks. Somewhere in the middle of all of it, reality hit that Wiley and I—both diabetic—haven’t been taking the best care of ourselves these past three weeks. Survival mode can do that. We know we need to find a better balance, so I put in a grocery delivery order and tried to make one good decision in the middle of the chaos.

Then the DCYF licensor rescheduled on me, so I used my lunch break to run Wiley his groceries for the fridge at his office before heading back to more meetings.

Calendar management has become an Olympic sport around here. Every appointment, every visit, every schedule change has to be tracked and communicated. Yesterday I realized I had double-booked myself with a podiatrist appointment and a blood draw, so I rescheduled the blood draw, updated my personal calendar, updated my work calendar, and kept moving.

By the end of the workday, I picked up FD6 from school. Since it was a beautiful sunny day, I decided to pick up FS3 from daycare too and let them play outside. I figured I’d finish my last hour and a half of work from home.

FS3 had other plans.

Because he didn’t get a nap, the hours from 3:00 to 6:00 p.m. were one meltdown after another. Sometimes parenting is gentle music, sweet moments, and sunshine. Sometimes it’s just surviving the next three minutes.

Meanwhile, FS15 had left for a visit around 2:15, only for mom to be MIA. I know that hurts more than he lets on. Teenagers are good at pretending they don’t care. But disappointment still lands. We’ll have that conversation in the car on the way to his eye exam.

Evening came, and like always, everyone needed something different.

A separate dinner for FS3. Pajamas and bedtime handled by Wiley. Dinner for the rest of us at the table. Homework, math, and phonics practice with FD6. My parents dropped off paperwork they picked up for me from the clinic.

Then came bedtime.

FD6 got her hair braided, wrapped up in her silk bonnet, and headed to her room for quiet time with music and coloring. I got her nighttime sounds turned on, read her a bedtime story, and she drifted off to sleep.

Later, Wiley and I settled into our little evening ritual: putting on a movie while I folded laundry and started another load washing.

Eventually, we called it a night.

And then we woke up to do it all over again.

Some days feel big. Some days feel heavy. Some days feel like nothing special happened at all.

But yesterday reminded me that ordinary days are where life is really built.

In the routines.
In the repetition.
In the showing up.
In the love that keeps going, even when everyone is tired.