Slowing Down a Bit

Well, it was bound to happen. I saw it coming, but I'm still not happy about it. I have an inner control freak to feed, you know. But here it is, and today about all I accomplished was picking up the kitchen faucet and general domestic work. I'm sure Zorak is starting to Suspect that I'm malingering. But I'm not, really. Physically, I feel great, other than the normal third trimester aches and pinches. The problem is my head. My head's just a little fuzzy. It's as if I've broken my mental fine tuning knob and can't. quite. see. the next thing to do.

I realized this morning, as I cleaned up the third puppy puddle, relegated the middle boy to cleaning up the styrofoam he'd shredded with a stick all over the dining room (All by myself? Yes, dear, all by yourself, just like you made that mess in the first place *smile*), pointed out to the eldest child that if he had been picking things up off the floor like he was *supposed to be doing* he wouldn't have ground that orange slice into the rug in his room, tracked the trail of spilled egg nog from the kitchen sink back to the eldest son's boot (he has no peripheral vision, I'm convinced of it), steer-roped the youngest child for the umpteenth time to try to get the snotsicles under control (drawback to homeschooling: he hasn't been sick enough to become a proficient nose blower yet), and kicked that stoopid Thomas toy for the fourth time in as many minutes...

... that I needed to set some goals and get on them, or Zorak was going to come home to find the children and the dog locked outside and me in bed with a book and my own box of tissues.

So I set five goals for today:
1 To the Pet Depot for supplies (ie - something for the puppy to chew on other than Smidge's feet, no wonder the child thinks he's going to be eaten)
2 To Home Depot for a kitchen sink (so the installers can drill the sink out for it while they're here and we don't have to mess up a perfectly nice sink ourselves)
3 Wire outlets for the living room (Zorak got off early today because he went in at some unholy hour, and he's ready to sheetrock those two walls)
4 Hang insulation in the dining room, and if I have time, wire those outlets, too.
5 Make turkey soup and pumpkin bread for supper (the carcass is simmering now)

I accomplished #'s 1, 2, and 5. That was it. Zorak put in the last two rows of insulation while James and I wired outlets, but it wasn't ready when he got home this afternoon. The soup was tasty, though. That's gotta count for something. If it doesn't, then it ought to. And I did throw together pumpkin muffins for the boys' afternoon snack and a loaf of pumpkin bread for breakfast tomorrow.

My children need me right now, and ironically, I need a nanny. Not for them, for me. In the professional world, they refer to them as Personal Assistants, or even Executive Secretaries. But they're nannies: responsible, organized adults who take care of, run herd on, tend to, and otherwise assist those of us who just can't get that grip on the next thing. I should have plopped my butt down on Santa's lap last week and asked for one. What's he going to say? No? (Well, yeah, but that's beside the point.)

Anyhow, that was the day today. Pretty mundane, boring stuff, unless egg nog spills excite you. In that case, it was a banner day.

Oh. Smidge. My wee Smidge. I spotted him tonight, sitting on the top bunk with his back to the ladder, head bobbing side to side like he was at a Raffi concert. Spider sense went off (a bit late, might want to get my batteries checked) so I called and asked him what he's doing. He flipped around with the biggest deer-in-the-headlights look I've ever seen, and both cheeks completely puffed out. It seems he has discovered James' stocking stash. The little nutmonkey waits for James to be otherwise engaged, then hightails it up the ladder to pillage the loot. I have no idea how long this has been going on, but at least when I asked him if he was eating James' candy, he nodded happily and 'fessed up. Tomorrow I will reimburse James from Smidge's stocking and James gets the fun task of trying to find a place to hide his things from his wily and stunningly stealthy-for-a-2-year-old baby brother. Ah, the joys of being the eldest sibling.

I sure wish some of y'all would get blogging regularly again - I don't get nearly the RDA of relaxing front porch time lately. ;-)

Kiss those babies!
~Dy