1. We are moving on Sunday.
I hate moving.
I hate packing.
I'm trying to be grateful for my life, my kids, and the new house in which we will live.
I'm failing miserably.
I booked both my ticket and our hotel room this morning. Rhonda is going to have to put up with me for three whole days. Time out of purgatory for her.
3. While attending the conference, I'm trying to talk myself into doing all the writerly things
4. I crashed and burned this week for the first time since Edward's birth.
Perhaps it's the
impending move plus life with six children, but the burn was bad. It involved tears and yelling at multiple family members. I just couldn't seem to pull myself out of my bad mood and into a good one which is when I realized the problem: I haven't been taking care of myself.
No exercise. Practically no time for writing or other artistic endeavors. My eating habits are a mess and I'm back on the Diet Coke. I've relapsed and relapsed bad.
The solution? I need to treat myself like the human being I am instead of the working machine I crave to be.
It's a novel concept--this acting like a member of the human race thing-- but it isn't as easy as it seems. I can't just check myself into a day spa to receive the royal treatment. And I'm moving. Hello? Moving is so, so stressful.
My house looks like this:
And my brain feels like this:
OK, so your life is a wreck
, I thought to myself,
You can still do something. In fact, this craziness mandates that you do something for yourself. Yes, your life is hard right now, but you don't have to be a martyr. What can you do for yourself today, as soon as possible?
I know! You can buy yourself some new clothes.
So I did.
4. Can we talk about new clothes for a moment? After a mother has had a baby, new clothes
necessary for several reasons:
a. your old clothes probably don't fit,
b. you want to lose weight so you can wear your old clothes again, but you are sleep deprived and stoked on coffee so focusing on weight loss is like praying for that boy you liked in high school to ask you to the senior prom--anxiety provoking and pointless (extended conversations with him inevitably involved lots of bathroom humor, anyway),
c. you must have something you can wear in which you feel pretty (and this is a must).
Even though I've had six kids, I forget these things. Over and over again, I forget these things.
5. Something interesting happened while I was shopping alone.
With no children.
And no husband.
And no one within a 25 mile radius who could legitimately call me, "Mommy."
While trying clothing on in the dressing room, a mother and her young adult daughter entered the stall next to mine. I overheard the mother say to the daughter,
"When you get married, always make sure to put money away for clothes, just for you. Otherwise, you'll never buy anything new for yourself. Make sure you make room in the budget. Men don't think about these things, so you must."
When I heard that sage advice, I wanted to bang on the door, grab the young woman by her lapels, and get in her face. I wanted to scream,
"LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER! SHE SPEAKS TRUTH! PUT SOME MONEY IN THE BUDGET FOR YOURSELF AND BUY YOURSELF SOME DAMN CLOTHES!"
6. I didn't bang on the stall and say that to the girl. But I did buy
some damn clothes,
which the mother rightly pointed out, we rarely budget for.
7. Here are some gratuitous baby photos. I can't help myself.
Those blue eyes are going to melt hearts one day.
He can sit up on his own now.
What is her problem?
My sentiments exactly, Edward.
They love me.
OK. That's enough. Personal space, please.
8. We are moving on Sunday. (Have I mentioned that already?) I'm gonna miss this place.
Catch you on the flip side...