"She refused to be bored, chiefly because she wasn't boring." Zelda Fitzgerald

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Tornado Alley

This is sort of how life feels a the moment at our house. One big, not terribly colorful, baby-in-the-picture-now blur. Kind of insane really. I have wayyy to many things to get done in one day and every single day ends lately with me panting madly and trying to find a way to shut of the manic "Concerns List" chattering in my head so that I can get to sleep.
  • Our landlord wants to bring a realtor through to evaluate our unit for listing and I am trying not to completely lose my mind over the impossibility that will be getting the place clean enough that I won't just die on the spot when they arrive. 
  • I am struggling just to get laundry washed and all the dishes cleaned, I still am not really "cooking" at all. (Its true...I am able to make jam but not dinner) My kind friends at MOPS are bringing in our evening meal every other night and we're eating leftovers for lunch and the alternate dinners and breakfast is something clever like....yogurt...or you know, yogurt.
  • I finally got the flannel sheets from the last cold spell off of Ru's bed today and I have not mailed even one thank you note. 
  • I was really hoping this house deal would come together before our summer house guests but, it looks like it won't be happening and I'm wracking my brain about where we'll put them all.
  • New discipline issues are cropping up with the big brothers and I'm resorting to online problem solving research to come up with fresh ideas for confronting the problems.
  • The birth announcements are all printed up and gathering dust on top of the computer. Blast! Must mail somehow!
  • The van needs to have a taillight replaced and I can't figure out when I'll have time to get it into the shop.
  • I have tomato plants in teeny tiny little peat pots on my back stoop that need somewhere real to live and I'm vacillating daily about whether to put them in the ground or shell out the extra cash for big pots and potting soil on the off chance that we end up moving before they bear.
  • The baby has the worst case of baby acne on the planet. He looks truly frightening. I am so sick of explaining to people that he hasn't been bitten by lots of bugs or broken out in a terrifying heat rash or gotten some devastating sickness. And I was hoping to do his one month portraits soon but, he truly looks so awful that I don't want to remember it in pictures. I'm even considering taking him in to the pediatrician. Would they laugh me out of the room?
  • I am that horrible in between stage physically. I can't fit my normal clothes but, I refuse to wear a maternity wardrobe and I'm not past the six week window to the magical place where dieting is allowed. Blast. 
How to avoid drowning in self pity, panic or total dark pessimism? Its really not that bad, right? Tell me this is somehow all petty or all in my head.

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