At least, that's what I keep telling myself when my right eye starts to throb from looking at the dirty dishes in the sink.
This week, we are dealing with the mundane to the extreme:
1. We are laying new tile in our master bathroom. Also adding a new toilet, painting, new fixtures, and new lighting. Feels like brain surgery. We're all prepped, going moment by moment, but because my father in law is doing the heavy lifting, we're having arguments about procedure, timeframe, and recovery time.
2. Ivan went back to work today, after 2 1/2 weeks off. We're still dealing with the medications, round the clock blood pressure monitoring, and a new low fat, low cholesterol diet, but he is much improved. I'm considering banning pay-per-view boxing in an attempt to keep his blood pressure at a non-threatening level. But now, with him gone during the day again, I'm left to corral the babies alone. Even with Ivan here in a diminished physical capacity, it is always a huge help to have an extra pair of hands. Now I'm back to doing one thing at a time, which is really not the way to get shit done.
3. Ella loves school. She needs it. She dreams about it, then jumps out of bed when she realizes she gets to attend today. On weekends, the first hour of the day is spent explaining how long it will be before she can go back again. This attitude persists, regardless of my personal preference to never leave the house again and just let the internet raise her. (Packing up two kids to drop her off at school sometimes takes me an hour. Yes. An hour.)
4. The house. It's a mess. I could list the details, but I'll spare you, dear internet. Let's just say it looks like they filmed the first 20 minutes of Saving Private Ryan in my living room. End of story.
5. Noah is pretty much ready for his first appearance on David Letterman. The kid laughs. He smiles. He responds to your questions and noises. He mimicks every single sound and word you make. He actually repeated the word "nuts" the other night. (I was referring to an American Idol contestant, so get your minds out of the gutter.) He calls me "Mama" and Ivan "Dada". Okay, I know what you're gonna say. He's supposed to do that. He's a baby. Yeah, alright. It's just such a profound thing when something you pushed out of your body just months ago starts responding to the world, and can look at you, identify you in English, and laugh at your jokes. It's like a removed mole turning around and pointing at you. But better. And less gross.
Just those 5 things alone make me tired. Someone call DR. House- I need to figure out why three cups of coffee a day aren't enough......
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