Every morning, I take some time to think, and what I've realized is that I wasn't thinking at all when I decided that I would homeschool my children (with little or no outside help/intervention/drugs) AND write part-time AND teach/coach AND take care of my husband, kids, and home.
HELLO? Where are the bell ringers when you need them? I remember this commercial where beat-down people are looking at happier people drink V8s and then they hit themselves over the head and say, "I could've had a V8." I wish I had a V24 because I know I need three-times what the average person needs.
Here are just a few examples of my so together — and not so together — life:
My goal is to wake up at 5 A.M. every morning. I believe in goals. And I think we all need to take 10 minutes or more of quiet time to really sort through things before we hit the ground running. Also, in order to be fresh and productive, I prefer to get at least seven hours of sleep, so that means going to bed by 10 P.M.
Now this may be hard for you Grey's and Lost watchers, but I personally don't watch evening television, so this is not a problem for me.
I give everyone notice around 8 P.M.: "I'm going to bed, you guys. You need to be in the bed by 9 P.M. so that I can get ready for tomorrow." And then I get in the shower.
DH takes evening duty between 8 and 10 P.M., putting the kids to bed. He, unfortunately, is exhausted — and everyone knows it, especially BBB. Afterwards, while DH falls asleep on the couch in front of his laptop, BBB goes in for the kill...
Could someone tell me why my 2-year-old (oops, correction: 2-1/2-year-old) waits until I'm really asleep to come smacking me on the face and crawling all over me? Now, you're probably asking me why he isn't asleep by 10 P.M. When you find the answer, could you call me? Twelve-plus years of parenting under our belts and we can't get him to sleep when he's supposed to go to sleep.
And then, when he's not supposed to sleep, like at 5:30 P.M., he's sound asleep. As far as why he's in my bed, no mystery there: He climbs out of his crib, gets in our bed, and we don't realize he's there until one of us gets kicked in the eye or something.
This month, since my youngest daughter's UTI, she has had real difficulty keeping dry at night, so after washing the linen daily and reading everything I can online, I've decided to buy her some Good Nights because I can't pinpoint why this is happening other than the possibility that she wants to be the baby again. Physiologically, we can't find anything wrong. I hear you...it's just a phase. Great, but do you know how much those things cost? Plus I'm buying Pull-Ups/diapers/sports and dance equipment...do you hear cash registers or slot machines?
Hmmph (I'm shaking my head to get rid of the noise).
Meanwhile, I can breathe a sigh of relief because I do have a couple of children who have reached the age of independence...well, sorta. My oldest son decided that he was going to cut his own fingernails and toenails. Good, right? Did he think to put them in the trash though? My oldest daughter lost one of her books for school somewhere and we had to replace it. Her misplacing of the book threw my syllabus behind about three weeks (I looked all over town for it before ordering it used from Amazon) and then, while cleaning up my clutter-ridden office (yes, it's back to being cluttered with piles — neat, not-quite-falling-over piles) I found the old book.
Her response: "Mommy, I have a lot to keep up with. You should understand. You misplace stuff all the time."
My oldest son stood next to her, nodding his head... And I am not responsible for what happened next...the wooden spoon accidentally leaving my hand and flying past their heads.
Yes, I'm still here. And I love my life. Still wondering though — What was I thinking?