I try to write regularly, but there is no time. I have been very busy all day lately and in general, I and am very very tired. You might ask why I am so tired and what exactly have I been doing? (well, if you are a mother you probably don't need to ask that.) But otherwise, the truth is at the end of the day I feel like I have run a marathon, only without the helpful benefits of the actual running. Yet I look around me and only .0001% of anything on my daily agenda has been done. The only things I remember clearly about the day are neon yellow newborn poop stained pajamas floating in the sink, almost loosing my purse in the library and having a very large SOPA conversation with my spouse which ended with me teaching Jedidiah the "Sopa de Ropa de Popa" Spanish poem I learned in elementary school. (So if you hear my son saying "Sopa" please don't think its anything political.) There are still dishes in the sink, and more that are emerging through the surface of the counter as I write. The laundry has not been cycled through, and I just realized that all of his diapers are in the dishwasher. Oh, did I just accidentally say dishwasher? I meant washing machine. But according to my two year old, there is no difference. I am sure that at one point today I have found dirty dishes in the laundry room and dirty underwear in the refrigerator. Everything has its place and everything in its place, right? and Pretty soon Jedidiah is going to come downstairs and say "oooh that's a wilson" because he wants to watch Dennis the Menace. I will put him in front of the TV (guilty as charged) while I think about what I possibly could be doing while he is fully occupied in the land of Mr. Wilson and "That's a Dennis!" In fact, I will probably think about it for so long that I will not accomplish anything but think. Now Matheson is wiggling around in my arms because he would prefer to be looking at something else and if I put him down he WILL cry. I just picked him up and put him down and now he is starring angrily at his hands. Well, I had a point in writing all of this, but Isaiah is coming home and I must gather all the things around the house that aren't where they are supposed to be and throw them right in a cardboard box in a closet where they belong so he doesn't have to come home to a messy house. Don't worry, some days function better than this.
P.S. I typed the last portion of this with one hand! Woo-hoo!!
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