This afternoon I ran around like a mad woman trying to complete a myriad of tasks while getting the kids ready to hurry up and get out the door so we could get to a party and have fun (we did, pictures are forthcoming). More and more these days it seems that's just what I'm doing; rushing myself, Jeremiah and my kids so that we can enjoy ourselves.
Today somehow I managed to prepare various parts of a lasagna for tomorrow's dinner, feed Sarah, comfort Kate who had some freaky meltdown and was crying and insisting on being held (this does not go well with making a bechamel sauce), shower, dress, dress Sarah, re-dress Sarah, dress Sarah again, dress Kate and clean up the kitchen all in about 1 hour.
More than feeling impressed with myself, I'm worried. I used to love Sundays. Slow and mellow...we'd read in bed while drinking a pot of coffee together. We went through a pot of coffee today and I don't even remember it. Now the only thing left to do is to clean the pot for tomorrow's coffee. I want my slow days back. There must be a way to reclaim just one day out of the week, even with 2 kids. I mean, besides drugging them, because even though I've thought of that, it's probably a bad idea - long term.