The work is never done:
- Ivy's room is a perpetual disaster. The kids see it as the opportunity of a lifetime to empty the book shelf, toss all the necklaces under the bed, and stack the stuffed animals in the rocking chair.
- Thankfully, Jamey's room is always clean, because they're always in Ivy's room.
- There are always dishes to wash.
- There are always dirty clothes.
- There is a stack of ironing that never goes away, no matter how much I ignore it.
- Then, there's dishes, mopping, and at least wiping the bathroom mirror.
- And the kids: they want breakfast AND lunch in the same day. Plus 17 cups of milk or water. And apples without peels. And Jamey will peel all the clementines and pull the segments apart before he smashes them into the couch, our bed, or line them up like a
- Then there's pregnancy stuff: I need to eat more protein to hopefully stave off the Pre-eclampsia. But the midwife doesn't want me to gain a bunch of weight. And I need more fruits & veggies. And the gross dandelion tea and my prenatal vitamin. And don't forget the Kegels! And walk. And exercise. And for heaven's sake, don't have sushi.
- And then the move: I feel compelled to keep the apartment pretty clean in case we get a call that there's a showing. And I have my 3-page list of cleaning to do, but it's still too early. And what should I pack for in the car with us? And for the few days we'll stay with Amy? And who will we give our keys to? And when will we get our deposit back? What if they don't give us our deposit back?
I think that about covers it for this afternoon. My struggle is, should I sit down and have a good cry (every day) or should I just suck it up? It's not that bad. I don't have to stress about the move (for heaven's sake, all I have to do is pack a suitcase). It all seems like so much sometimes. But then I just fold another load of clothes and put more dishes away, and then it's not so bad. And I have a clean apartment.