It's taken all my energy not to just sit at the table and cry this morning. Knowing Finn is going away with the brothers today, replaying last night's event in my head . . . I feel broken. Everything in me is shattered into a million pieces, and I have no clue how to even begin putting it back together.
Sighing, I stand and grab the kids' breakfast plates from their highchair trays and set them in the sink. Grabbing a clean towel from the holder, I wet it with warm water, ring it out, and proceed to wipe down their little faces. Maeve and Padraic are already droopy-eyed, their little heads falling forward as they doze off.
This is our normal routine as of late. It's only 8:30 in the morning, and all three are fed. They'll get in their playpen and nap for two hours or so, sometimes
