I spend much of the week chasing my own tail. Up at 5:30, making breakfasts, packing lunches, forcing people to eat - I am the meanest.mother.ever. Unloading and reloading the dishwasher, the washing machine, the dryer - I'm ecstatic that I have these wonderful, time and labor saving devices - but I still am very very busy before I even start my day job.
I work from home, which is absolutely 100% amazing for me, because I can toss in a load of wash or make an emergency doctor appointment for a kid or just turn my chair around and listen when someone wants to rant about the injustices of middle school or the unfair teacher she has.
But by the end of the week, I'm flat out exhausted - a state of being to which I'm sure every one of you reading can relate. All of the balls I juggle so profusely and precariously Monday-Friday just come crashing about my head Friday around 3 p.m.
Friday night used to be the night I'd get dressed up and we'd go out. Now it's the night I order or make pizza and I drop into bed at the earliest possible time I can finagle.
And Saturday becomes a day in which I try to catch up on all of those things I miss during the week. I make cookies and bread, cakes and dinners. I go to Plato's Closet with a kid whose pants are suddenly too tight and invest in new threads, hope and pray for a new outlook. I get my hair done, keep up with the waxing and the pedicure - the things that help me feel better about myself. I grocery shop, write letters, send cards, and take my kids for Chick-Fil-A. I spend time hanging around in Ulta, and pick up a new eyeliner and vow that this will be the time I will learn to draw the cat's eye - before it becomes obsolete. I try to remember to look through backpacks for teacher letters and quiz people on spelling words, state capitals, times tables, and war facts - civil, WWII, and Revolutionary. I badger about projects, term papers and Think Tank. I copy sheet music, listen to scales and remind people that the instrument really should be cleaned more than once a semester.
And there are Saturdays when everyone has a cold and we all run for the tissues and pass around the DayQuil. Days where I sign my kids up for a fantastic online service that is actually an upcoming review and listen to them talk about the amazingness that they encounter -
and I work on my manuscript. (Shhh. Very, very private and quiet - I'm petrified to talk about it because times 1, 2 and 3 petered out to nothingness.)
Days where I look at a motorcycle for sale, and think, Not yet. But soon. Very soon.
It's a new month. February has historically been my worst month, a dark and depressing hole of dankness and despair that is difficult to escape - but one day, I looked up and realized it was the 20th and I hadn't even had time to think about the fact that it was February and I just had 8 more days to get through. And then it was March.
March is still cold. March often brings snow to my city, or that really, really cold rain that sinks into your bones and makes it difficult to get warm. March can often feel like an extension of February.
This post is really two separate posts, with two different yet relevant thoughts. Much like my mind, it is scattered and fragmented, but what I really want to know is
What is new with you, faithful reader? How are you spending your weekends, your March days, your end of month revelry?