This might not seem like a monumental thing, but it is Mommy-Tracked's sanity. Books. DVDs. Storytime. A place to take the kids where they won't whine.
I've moved multiple times in my life. I'm about to get my 10th. Every time I move, I keep the library card. It's my record of the places that kept me sane. Sorry, Plainfield. I'm not giving it back.
A shout out to all the libraries who have given me books, music and videos that have transported me out of the humdrum and into other worlds:
what my medieval ancestors looked like. I'm dressed in princess regalia, watching Cinderella to learn "how to be a princess," -- or so sayeth my four-year-old.
My outfit includes a lovely hat that would do a 12th century lady proud, I'm sure. Cinderella skirts work better as head coverings at my age.
We sold the house (a minor miracle in this market) and bought another.
You can call me "Master," as I've earned my master's in communication.
Now I'm unpacking and arranging. I'm being Mom, which means being a taxi service (yes, I've learned how to drive like a Texan already, in a Mom Van, no less), a nurse, a photography model (our four-year-old likes to thinks she's Annie Leibowitz).
I've also been a psychologist of sorts. My kids are adjusting to leaving the familiar behind and embracing the new. They are scarred by years in Tornado Alley. The first week we were here, San Antonio had a nasty thunderstorm blow through; our children were convinced an F4 would blow the house apart. I think they might have attempted to dig a basement, had I let them.
Like so many out there, I'm job hunting. It is frustrating to be so well-educated and experienced, and not even get a call for an interview. I'm just starting. I have friends who are just as experienced and educated who have been looking for months.
I'm so ready for it to be June, for us to be moved and back together again.
I'm exhausted. I know I'm on the downhill slide; only a few more months. But the daily grind is getting to me. Every day:
I wake up. I wake the kids up. I negotiate the great cereal battle. I cuddle with the youngest. I dress the youngest. I negotiate the next battle. I try and shower and get ready. I make three or four beds. I clean up the bathroom. I clean up the kitchen. I negotiate yet another battle. I spot-check the house for show-readiness, just in case a Realtor comes by. I grab my cell, just in case a Realtor calls. I grab my work stuff. Jackets. Try to make the laundry area neat. Negotiate the car battle. Drive to school. Answer at least four questions from the kids as we drive. Drop kids at school. 3 out of 5 days, I cave and get coffee on the way in. Work. Run errands at lunch. Work more. Pick up kids. Negotiate the homework/chore battle. Make dinner. Do laundry. Feed kids. Negotiate another battle. Bathe kids. Clean up from dinner. Ask eldest to do some sort of housework. Half the time, she remembers. Take out trash. Tuck in kids. Say prayers. Spray monster spray. Re-tuck kids. Take my bath. Check on son; remind him it is an hour after his bedtime; must put Fudge book down. Try and do homework, give up, play on Facebook. Crash in bed. Try to sleep. Some nights, fall asleep. Others, toss and turn for hours. Get up, do it again.
Add in allergies, my class on Tuesdays, and then the constant running on the weekends, plus the pressure to keep the house perfectly clean, and I'm just wiped out. Can someone please buy our house within the next few weeks? That alone would remove a huge burden.
