It’s the weekends that do me in. All the kids home plus all of that exhaustion at week’s end spell disaster and very little typing for me.
We’re halfway there now, and I’ve managed not to fall off the wagon and break my crown on Ms. Mary’s tuffet, while the farmer sat in his dell, which is so weird because I thought he was a Mac man. Puzzling indeed.
I’ll tell you something else here: life with six kids? Way less easy to just quickly run to the store with. Four I’ve got down. Six? It’s a production.
As I drifted off to bed last night, I murmured to Jason something about remembering how we felt four was a little difficult after the first two, but we quickly settled into a routine because I feel just fine corralling four. I told him I bet you there’s that sweet spot for six where we don’t always weigh the necessity of going out so heavily. Like, well, we’re out of toilet paper but going out, means going to the store with six kids by myself. What to do? What to do? I mean is toilet paper really that necessary? Take it from me: it totally is.
Taken this summer in Washington.
Sometimes we talk about moving perhaps a little further east, somewhere like Montana or Wyoming. But then I remember the severity of winter weather in other places, and my body will involuntarily shiver. I’m a wimp, you see, and all of these many eons of living on the warmer West Coast, along with enjoying the climate that is afforded in the summer months in this valley we reside in now, as well as having sojourned in the likes of Guam and Hawaii, have thinned my blood considerably. While the romanticized version of living in places like that where the snow falls and sticks sounds cozy, I barely survive the high 30s, low 40s here. And usually I am only able to do that by pictures such as this one to remind me that the sun will be back again to warm my freezing body. Thank the heavens.
I wound up being awake until sometime after 3:00 in the morning last night, or as my friend so aptly reminded me, this morning.
I knew today was going to be a very busy day, and many curves were thrown my way.
It’s a bit past 8:00 now, and the kids have just been put to bed, 30 minutes past their bedtime. And I have a sneaking suspicion that I will not have the insomnia three nights in a row because I can barely keep my eyes open, I’m so tired.
Tomorrow promises to be just as crazy. The two littles that we thought we would have for a couple of months are coming to stay with us for a short time, maybe a week, maybe two, maybe longer. We’re all excited to see them again, and two more will make us eight sometime tomorrow morning.
Can you sense the exhaustion in my words? Each one I type out is heavy laden with the chant of sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep.
I must obey.
I’m dragging a bit tonight. I’ve got insomnia nipping at my heels, and I don’t know why, but it certainly is there. When I wake up at 1:30 in the morning, and I’m wide awake wondering how on earth I’ll ever get back to sleep again, I feel like I might be having an out-of-body experience because I love to sleep. Sleep is so wonderful, and I love it so hard, and when it alludes me, which is just stupid, I get so frustrated.
This week is not the week for worrying about not getting rest or not. I’ve got loads of work to do, and even more loads of laundry to catch up on. (See what I did there?) All of my time is carefully accounted for each and every hour, whether it’s basketball practice or piano practice or the PTO meeting or work calls or even just finding time to do some grocery shopping, it’s pretty hairy the last couple of weeks.
So it’s really a giant pain in my behind when I can’t shut my brain off long enough to saw a few logs, catch a couple of Zzzs or whatever other sleeping phraseology that’s out there that might convince my brain otherwise.