I was supposed to be packing today. Alone. In a quiet house. Without kids.
Instead, I got 30 below windchills and school is closed. Which makes for one very, very NOT happy mama. And three mostly NOT happy kids. So far today, I’ve broken up at least three
fights arguments, bandaged up one owie, dealt with three drama fests from my oldest (why must seven year olds burst into tears about EVERYTHING????), served about 8 courses of breakfast thrown together out of nothing, because I don’t want to move lots of food, and am now being hounded for a snack. It’s only 9:45 a.m. Can we all just go to bed and call it tomorrow?
The house is about half done. The garage is empty, and we have a vanload of boxes waiting to be transported, when the temperature gets such as not to shatter rubber. This is not what I ordered, and I’m sending it back! Grr! …Anyway, only one more full day, and we’re free. I guess I should just concentrate on that, right? I’m just about ready to sweep off the counter into a box and GO already. Gives me new sympathy for military families. I can’t imagine facing doing this AGAIN in less than three years. This will be Corwin’s third home already, and he’s not even three yet. Something is seriously warped about that. Well, I’d better try to get something done before the next wave of chaos hits. If anyone finds a transporter beam cheap on ebay, let me know, will you?