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Let’s not talk about the pile of clean laundry sitting beside the dryer. Yesterday I folded a couple loads. How is there more already? (Might have something to do with that oh-hey-I-wet-the-bed thing from our three-year-old.)
Let’s not talk about how I dread bedtime now, with kids who want to stay up past 9, one who is the lightest sleeper ever, one who comes up with every excuse in the book. Light outside until 8:30?? JUST GO TO BED. I feel like a failure, because I know all over the world two and three and ten kids are sharing a bedroom and I can’t seem to make it work with my two. Bedtime stinks.
Let’s not talk about the pile of dirty dishes in the sink, the full trash can, the curdled milk-cup. Because our master bedroom is clean, and so is the living room, and darn it I can’t do it all. And write. And chauffeur kids to school and back. And eat. (If I could just cut out eating …)
Let’s not talk about how if Libbie asks me if I brushed David’s teeth again steam might blow out of my ears and my head might start turning around cause I am so dang tired of her trying to be his mommy. I know she is 3 but does she really think I have NO IDEA WHAT I AM DOING? She’s still alive, isn’t she?
Let’s not talk about how little sleep I’ve had the last few days or the strange dream sequence about a murder mystery that I’m worried might be from too much Hunger Games and now all those anti-HG people are going to come after me and tell me I’m not a Christian because I read the books.
Let’s talk about what was good today. Dogs hanging their heads out car windows. Green trees budding with new life. Dimples in baby cheeks and lots of giggles. Time at home when everyone else was asleep, my family here and together and safe but quiet. Having a healthful lunch in the dining hall. Making a chocolate bundt cake without tasting it (a feat, I tell you). Good cups of coffee with sucanat.
I feel better now. Don’t you?