I'm having one of those parenting months where I feel like I'm just putting in my time. I'm not enjoying my time and I don't think anyone is enjoying theirs with me.
I get up in the morning and do the frantic before school dash. Then I put in time until I either have to go back to school to teach / lunch monitor or until it's time for the kids to come home. Then I put in my time until bedtime. Then I pant for a few moments until the cement on my eyelids forces them closed.
Last night I felt so proud that I was making it as late as I did when I feel asleep. I looked at the clock: 9:13. I kid you not. I thought I'd made it until 11 and it wasn't even 9:15.
Every moment is full. It is either legitimately full, or it is full of what-I-should-be-doing. Whether that is the laundry, or playing with Frodo during Charming's excruciatingly short naps. And if I'm playing it is the laundry and if it is the laundry it's playing.
I'm reminded of the old saying: God put me on this earth to accomplish a certain number of things. Right now I'm so far behind, I will never die.
Or this one in the old Mennonite grocery store in my hometown: The hurrier I go, the behinder I get.
Well, must dash off. I have a birthday party to plan and a house to clean and treats to take to school and lunch to monitor and children to disappoint and laundry scraping the ceiling...
Speaking of birthday parties: this is much better than my life 7 years ago when I was waiting to see if I would be a mother. Back then I had NOTHING to do and I was miserable.
Happy Birthday Eldest!
This is all your fault and I'm so very, very glad.