I am going to clean. And when I say clean, I mean move stuff around to make the house look sufficiently organized enough that it's not distracting me from completing my freelance work. I'm going to get new sandals for the boys; ones where their toes don't hang over the edges so that I cringe when they are running while vision of nails peeling back run through my brain. I'm going to make some fantastic dinners (Stir fried beef and broccoli, BBQ and potato salad).
Realistically, the freelance will/has to get done but I will probably find a way to weasel out of the rest. I'm finding by the time I get a chance to have a bit of me time I'm exhausted. These kids tire me out. And I'm probably the laziest mom out there. Half the time the boys amuse themselves and Addison roles around on the floor discovering that really, dog hair doesn't taste that bad. By 8pm the last thing I want to do is clean the living room, do the dishes, sweep the floor, make sure all the toys are put away and then sit down here and try to be a creative design genius. I'd rather fall asleep on the couch, nursing a Pepsi, to some sappy chick-flick (that almost accurately describes my on-strike evenings which have been a lot more frequent lately).
I'm telling myself that once I actually get a couple of nights of uninterrupted sleep (Addison is still up once nursing... that's not too bad), I think I will be a much saner person.
It's 8:30 pm. The boys are being superheroes or sharks or something in the basement. Craig has just walked in the door. I suppose I should quit slacking and put the mutant Marvel mammals to bed.
1 comment:
Boy do I know that feeling. Come 8 pm I am not interested in doing another house related chore.
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