This morning stands in stark contrast to yesterday, let me tell ya. I haven't done a damn thing so far except try to nap, which I failed at. I slept really badly last night because the stupid new doggie kept getting up in his crate--which Husband has placed conveniently next to our bed--and turning around and around AND AROUND to get comfortable. Plus shaking his little tags so that they jingled all night long. Between him and Bean waking at 12:30, 2:30, 4:30 and 5:15 I feel like the mean mama from hell this morning. Isn't it astounding what a little sleep-deprivation can turn an otherwise perfectly nice and creative mama into? Truly, I'm amazed by this. Frequently.
Our household has been quite stressed for the last week. Husband and I wrote a joint to-do list earlier this week full of tasks related to his father's recent death. There are stacks of bills and papers to go through so that we can find, pay off, and close various accounts. There are phone calls to make, faxes to send, airline tickets to book as we plan to go back and forth between NC and Atlanta, GA. There are moving vans to research and rent for the vast quantity of special family furniture that Husband wants to move up here. (And oy! Eventually, there'll be our own existing furniture to figure out what to do with. Our house isn't near big enough for it all.) I'm trying to help Husband--who also has a full-time job to worry about while trying to work on this stuff---but I really have to force my voice to remain serene and sweet by the time he gets home in the evenings. I'd like home to be a nice place to walk into, and the last thing he needs right now is a shrew wife.
Plus, on top of all this? Sister is going through one of her god-awful periods. I swear, sometimes I think my 7-1/2 year old child is already pubescing, given her sass and bad attitude for the past couple of weeks. Can I just shout this out into cyberspace since I can't say it to her? She's just awful lately, and it is no fun being with her. Horrible, isn't it? I love her dearly, of course, but I kinda want to farm her out to my mother or to the circus these days or something. Anything to get her out of the house and out of my hair. Sigh. I hope I won't be struck down for writing that, but really, it just has to be said sometimes.