I force myself to stop and take stock.
This is my sanity break.
I need it. Require it. Absolutely can not function without it.
In the last three hours I have cleaned the kitchen, made three phone calls, breakfast for the kids, yelled, washed two bums and three pairs of hands, yelled, had coffee and a fish fillet, wiped down two counter tops, two drippy sneezes and one bloody nose. #3's. YELLED. He fell down hard when we were playing the Run to Mommy & Gimme A Hug Game. :-(
In the next three hours I will give three baths, get one ready for school, make lunch, put one to nap and do home-school for the other, and tidy up the mess. Right now my whole life feels like a mess. Tidy up the mess. In three hours. How the hell do it do that? How. How. How. How. How.
In the middle of all this I will need to remember one thing and one thing only: To breathe in and out. In and out. In and out.
That, thankfully, I still know how to do.
It took me an hour and seven minutes to write that.
Thanks to the interruptions of washing one more bum, setting the shower temperature, yelling at one to not make confetti out of tissue paper, picking up the confetti - I mean, tissue. Trying to be coherent amidst the chaos is a hurdle. There's so much mess. Tidy up the mess.
Let's hear it again, folks. This time with feeling. How. How. How. How. How.
Usually the folks who think life is hard, Kat, are just plain messin' with the cursed hows.
Heck, I'd think it was hard, too, if I forgot there was magic, didn't believe in miracles, and thought I evolved from the ocean as an amoeba.
See you on easy street -
P.S. Don't get me wrong, Kat, I love amoebas.
There are days when I just smile at the messages.
There are days when I smirk and blurt out words at the screen like - "What a load of crap!"
Then there are days when Mike Dooley a.k.a. The Universe's self-styled scribe nails it and I am bawling like a baby in a crumpled soaking heap.
Hell, Mr. Dooley, you got me today. Got me good on this Monday, bloody Monday.