Allow me to set the scene for you. It is 8 pm. I am in bed with Bertha, Winnie and Paisley.
In bed is really the safest place for me to be.
Who are Bertha, Winnie and Paisley? They are my laptop, my iPhone and my weighted blanket. Respectively.
The two youngest are in bed. The second oldest is doing whatever it is he does best. Which I can safely say is probably torturing anything that can be tortured. ie. his sister. His sister, the oldest is rehearsing for her audition tomorrow. She is singing, like actually singing, right now, in the kitchen. She is practicing My Favourite Things for an audition to be in The Sound of Music of which I have seen no less that 10 bazillion times and she has seen exactly zero.
Zero times has she seen this musical, yet she wants to be, more than anything in the world, a lead in the live high school production.
As I sang and performed for her earlier this eveing, in the most stellar of fashions, the very song she will be singing tomorrow she sat wide eyed staring at me. A look nothing short of amazement and awe on her face. I'm sure it's because she could hardly believe her mother's mind blowing talents. She claims it's more because she can't believe she has such a mother but I know she's lying. I asked her if she wanted me to go get the DVD of the musical and we could sing and watch together. She gracefully declined my offer.
I don't know why. She has never really made much sense to me. She is strange, like her father.
Anyway, back to why I am in bed at 8 pm. Actually it's 8:12 now. I had a great day. It was organized and productive, mostly. I worked out hard. I ate well. I even signed up to run a 5K in June. I prepared 75% of dinner for my family as well as for a lady from church who just had her third baby in as many years. I read and studied and cleaned my kitchen. All before 2:45 pm.
I cleaned my kitchen. It was clean. A clean kitchen is a woman's best friend.
I taught piano and then blammo! it was 5 pm. My world turned to total chaos and mayhem. All of a sudden I only had 15 minutes left to get 45 minutes worth of work done. I was madly chopping salad, making cookies, I mean burning cookies, grating cheese, I mean grating my thumb, trying to get kids here and dinner there and then dinner spilled all over the seat in my truck and...
KAPOW! I was cranky, tired and bleeding profusely from my thumb in my very messy, very unhappy kitchen.
And now I am in bed.
See how that works?
You know, none of it on its own is very earth shattering, or mind blowing or even that interesting to talk about but yet it has completely flipped me upside down emotionally. And I am wondering what that is. Is it a fatigue I'm not registering? Is it hormonal? Is it dissatisfaction?
What I do know is that I would have made a much better princess. A princess with her own lady in waiting. Let someone else work in the basement grating their thumbs into the casserole and burning the cookies.
Why should I have all the fun?