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4:30 pm: Get a call telling me the movers will be here tomorrow between 8 and 10 am. Oh boy. So not ready.
4:31 pm: Back to packing. I think, "What do I need more for the next three months, shoes or handbags? Shoes. Definitely shoes."
4:32 pm: Let Mr. Furious play with his Thomas the Tank Engine bag instructing him to pack some toys in there. I think, "Could I fit a handbag in his bag? Hubby's bag? Bam Bam's (3 yo) bag?" Yes. Definitely.
4:33 pm: Lecture from Mr. Furious about forgetting to pack his travel toothpaste in the bag. "Uhhhhh...look what you did!"
4:35 pm: Lecture for Mr. Furious about taking things out of the packed bags. I resign myself to the fact that he is undoing everything I'm doing.
4:35 pm: respond to email. Feel guilty.
4:36 pm: "Don't get stuff out of the bags."
4:38 pm: I feel like I'm having a heart attack. Hot flash. Back and arm pain. Must return to packing.
4:30: wander around the house, not knowing what to pack. Eat popcorn. Finish the bowl of popcorn.
4:41: erase LDS Nugget email (how did I get on that list anyway?). more guilt.
4:42: take three bites of watermelon. out of three different pieces. just for the hell of it.
4:49: "Do you know what a sound wave is? It's like when you talk, there is a wave that you can't see." Mr. Furious is using Color Wonder and pontificating on life's mysteries. And suddenly he walks away. "What were you saying sweetie?" I call after him. "Nothing. You were busy."
5:00: Realtor calls. New owner wants to walk through on Monday. I can't even see past five minutes from now. Monday sounds fine.
5:58: Boys packed for summer and fall. Every stitch of laundry is clean except what we have on. And the boys have no shirts on so I'm ahead of that game. They have no shoes on either. And I just found them across the street. "We're looking for sticks!" Great.
6:00: McDonald's sounds good, no?
6:58: Ghostbusters on. McDonald's being eaten. Talking to hubby, crying now over what still has to be done. It's all made better by the fact that he mentions our townhouse is actually two townhouses with the wall torn out. Tall ceilings. Open floor plan. Manna from Heaven. Sweet nectar of life.
7:23: There is a couple taking their nightly walk down my street. I miss being settled. Already.Labels: The Move |
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We're on probably our final "walk/bike ride" in our country neighborhood before our move. Mr. Furious (5 yo) has successfully (for the first time!) learned to ride his bike without the training wheels. He is pumped full of pride and with a flushed face (he gets that from me) decides he needs to take a rest. We are surrounded by fields, old houses, and lots and lots of Nature.
"Can we play I Spy for a minute?"
"Sure."
"Ok, I spy something green."
"Trees."
"That's it! How did you know?"Labels: legacy |
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Definitely one of the worst parenting days on record. Lots of frustrations, lots of yelling, even more temper tantrums, very few happy campers. However, I was able to get SO MANY of the things done that are plaguing me as we approach our move. I even Gordo'd my way into getting Costco to let me purchase something (in fact all of the luggage we need to move) without a membership card.
This is THE story of my parenting life. It always feels like to assuage one looming to-do list, I have to sacrifice another. I'm never sure whose "needs" I'm supposed to be fulfilling because inevitably, whatever I choose will be leave something else undone, someone else unfulfilled.
Reading Justine's beautiful essay makes me want to hope that I can do this. I can be this person. This conflicted, imperfect, but somehow okay mother of two boys, wife of one, individual above all.Labels: The Boy Factory |
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Name: Reluctant Nomad
Home: Austria
About Me: I photograph banal subjects to remind myself of the beauty in everyday life. I have two little boys who love me even when I'm crazy and a hubby who loves me in spite of it.
See my profile...
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Brushes by Gvalkyrie
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posted by Reluctant Nomad at 
