lovemakesroom

Sunday’s hit different now—and not in the sleep-in, slow coffee, do-nothing kind of way. More like… reset, regroup, and let’s try again energy. It’s the one day that feels like a deep breath for our house—a chance to right the ship before Monday comes in hot.

The day kicked off in the now very on-brand fashion: a full-blown poop catastrophe. Ever since FS3 decided that eating sand was apparently a gourmet life choice, mornings have been… adventurous. So we handled that (because what choice do you have, really?), and then I pivoted straight into “let’s get our life together” mode.

I told Wiley—if we’re going to be successful at this, we can’t lose us in the process. Our needs, our appointments, our sanity… they matter too. So I started there. Our room. The master bath. The main bathroom. The living room. A load of dishes going, laundry switching over like clockwork. Not glamorous, but necessary. The kind of work that quietly says, we’re building something here.

CASA came to visit the kids, and instead of sitting still (because apparently I don’t know how), I used the time to tackle the car. You know, the aftermath of yesterday’s excursion—snacks, crumbs, mystery wrappers, and at least one thing you’re afraid to identify. Cleaned, cleared, reset. Another small win.

We made our way to Grandma and Pa—Kelly & Fred’s—for snacks and lunch, which honestly felt like a little exhale in the middle of the day. Then back home to shake out the wiggles because kids don’t come with an off switch.

FS3 finally crashed for a late afternoon nap (bless it), FD6 settled into Disney movies in the front room, and for a minute it felt… calm.

I tried to keep going. Tried to stay productive. But my body had other plans.

P.S. GLP-1s? Yeah… they don’t play nice with your gut.

So instead of pushing through, I listened. I laid down, heating pad on, “You Are My Sunshine” playing on repeat in the background like the softest little reminder of why all of this matters. Ordered a few grocery staples, let myself slow down, and just… existed for a minute.

And maybe that’s what Sunday really is now.

Not perfect. Not peaceful. Not even predictable.

But intentional.

A mix of chaos and care. Of cleaning and connecting. Of doing what you can—and resting when you can’t.

A quiet promise to try again tomorrow, just a little more prepared than today.