"Mami, mira- burbujas!" Dominic whispers as he catches me looking at him through one partially closed eye. I am tired, angry, and frustrated to the point of delirium. Dominic is mastering his spit bubble skills as we approach the hour mark of another naptime wrestling match of will. It's become a daily struggle and I suppress a laugh as his breath tickles my face. He peers into my eyes making soft popping noises with his spit. If the laugh were to escape, I wonder that it would sound maniacal. Am I going crazy?
We found home. It's a beautiful 2 bedroom, 4th floor condo in Davie with a lake view that is so peaceful that sometimes I pinch myself to see if I'm dreaming. There are still boxes everywhere (mostly books) and a washer and dryer in the living room that I haven't gotten around to advertising. Everyday I wake up with an ambitious to-do list and the energy to take it on. But by the time I get breakfast taken care of and restore whatever disaster has befallen our household during Dominic's morning run, and then clean the kitchen and find the kids' shoes which are invariably missing, dress the scattered litter and march them to the car in the steaming heat, trap Dominic as he jumps from seat to seat locking the car doors and buckle him down, and get in myself, I am thoroughly zapped. I can usually get to the first of my intended destinations where I stand in front of whatever item I'm considering (a three-drawer Sterilite countertop organizer for instance) and try to remember every time I've seen that same item or a similar one at Target, Walmart, Kmart, HomeGoods, Bed Bath & Beyond, IKEA, Michaels', Home Depot, Office Depot... and I try to remember what it cost at each store. And I think about how I'd use it and where I'd put it. And what my storage alternatives are. I wonder about the environmental implications and about what Laura Ingalls Wilder would have used instead on the prairie in the 1800s. All the while I am intercepting flying sandals and containing toddlers that are trying to scramble out of shopping cart baskets, answering phone calls and politely acknowledging strangers who poke admiringly at my children. And this, my friends, is why it takes me two hours to buy a piece of glorified tupperware, and why, when I am pulling Dominic out of Noemie's crib for the upteenth time at 2 pm, I have to monitor my mental stability.
I needed to find some ribbon for a photo project and I was hoping Danny would install a bookshelf in the kids room. The camera cable is MIA and I had some things around the house that needed glue-gun mending. I've got some long overdue thank you cards to write and I have to pick up groceries for the weekend. Don't even ask me when the last time was that I worked on the baby scrapbooks... or why Noemie's walking around with a kiddie toilet seat on her head. I think I'm just going to call it a day and go to the pool. After all, it is Friday!
