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Contributor: Mollie Player.
Genevieve is the person in my life (well, one of the two, I guess) who gets to hear all my spiritual stuff–and I get to hear hers, too. (Yeah, she is pretty awesome.)
The other day, I was telling her how well things were going overall, especially considering that sometimes having two kids feels like you’re in a war zone where bombs are going off in the distance all around you and even though they don’t often land right nearby, you’re completely unable to escape the area. Those are the moments you can feel the PTSD coming on and you wonder if anything that is happening in your brain right now is permanent.
Anyway … So, I was telling Genevieve that in spite of some not-so-great moments, having two kids is really pretty cool, and altogether I feel pretty sane. “But I wish I had just two hours of alone time at night. That would be the best thing ever.”
And then, just because she is like that, Genevieve said something like this: “You mean you have a belief that you don’t have two hours of alone time at night.”
And I said, “Yeah, that’s right. I wonder why I have that belief.”
Then I went on with my day.
The following week, I dropped my first son’s nap. Ever since then, he has gone to bed three hours earlier. Of course, I didn’t notice the coincidence until I saw Gen a few days later.
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