OK, that doesn’t make any sense. None what’s so ever. But there you have it.
I’ve certainly neglected my little blog over the past 14 months. I just feel like there isn’t much to say. Or nothing new, anyway. Our days our repetitive with slight variations here and there.
We get up. We rush around like crazy, trying to get out the door for school/the gym/a playdate/camp. People won’t eat breakfast or brush their teeth. Or put on their clothes. Shoes are lost and the pants that fit last week don’t fit today. They’re INCHES too short. We get in the car and there’s a breakdown about the missing stuffed bear or how so-and-so looked at me funny. There are time outs and yelling and tears and it’s barely 9:00.
I drop the kids at their destination and then I’m off to the gym/a run/the grocery store/the doctor/the cleaners/home to sew. The days have variations but I’m certainly a creature of habit, my days from 9-1 vary slightly. I’m attempting more to focus on getting things done that mean something to me – a kick ass kettlebell workout or several solid hours of uninterrupted sewing. I almost NEVER spend my ME time doing laundry or dishes or even having lunch, that can all wait until the kids and I get home.
And then I pick them up. The whining/crying/fighting all happens within minutes of getting into the car. I attempt to diffuse/detract/engage in topics that don’t result in whining and tears. Sometimes my own. It’s amazing how quickly the peace becomes a war.
We head to a friends/swimming/home/the grocery store/out for ice cream/to the park/or any of the other 34 errands I’ve neglected to complete during my morning solitude. I can’t complain. Not really. Courtney and Patrick are the best of friends. They play together all afternoon. Mostly nicely. Don’t get me wrong, there are tears and fights, the occasional blood, and some serious screaming. But they like each other and enjoy each other’s company. I don’t expect it to last forever but it’s great while we have it.
The kids eat. All the time. Non-stop. I’m constantly throwing food their way, not unlike feeding the animals at the zoo. You just keep lobbing things their way and hope that at some point, they’ll be satiated long enough that you can get out of the kitchen. And then I make dinner. I can’t help it, I cook. We rarely eat out, I love a home cooked meal. Part of it’s the cost but part of it is knowing what I’m eating and what’s in my food. Even if Paul and I are the only one’s who will eat it. I make an amazing pad-thai that my kids won’t touch with a 10-foot pole. That’s fine, I’d prefer not to share. But how many hotdogs and string cheese can Patrick actually eat? (The answer: all of them.)
And then the small people sleep. Or at least go to bed. Courtney doesn’t sleep. She spends 2 hours running around from her bed to the bathroom to the bookshelf to the bed to the bathroom to the…. You get it. Two hours. She *usually* doesn’t scream for anybody but for those 2 hours, I’m tense. I can’t relax. I’m waiting for the wailing of my name. The sobs that come when I won’t go up there for the zillionth time. Or the first time.
I know I sound down, like things aren’t great. And sometimes they aren’t but usually they’re pretty good. Just the same. The kids are healthy and happy and thriving. Paul and I still like each other and have created a happy and loving environment. We don’t get to do all the things we’d like to do or go on any crazy and exciting vacations but that’s ok. For the most part, Groundhog Day isn’t so bad. Some changes would be welcome, but only fun and exciting ones.
Time to finish dinner. And then see if we can’t survive the witching hour. I hope to be back here more. We’ll see, I make no promises.