Zachary is sitting on the couch in merely his Sponge Bob drawers, happily drawing away on the magnadoodle. Except now he's examining the inner workings of my Oreck and repeating, "The vacuum is sick! The vacuum is sick! The vacuum is sick!"
(The vacuum is not sick.)
Gracie is napping because she has the unfortunate tender tummy. If she eats chocolate and root beer in the 3-4 hours before bedtime, she has a terrible belly ache. So she wallowed me all night. She kicked me in the face no less than four times.
I spent all last week becoming acclimated to the shock of being pregnant again, and also coordinating an it's-about-time wedding. The last month has been one late night after another combined with lots of Kelsey's special brand of obsessing about youth camp. Which is this week, so Chris and Kelsey are three hours away til early Saturday morning.
There is a pile of mail to be dealt with, the checkbook to be balanced, the upstairs to be vacuumed and beds to be made. Bathrooms need to be scrubbed. Office work to be prioritized.
Yet all I want to do is crawl up in a ball on my bed and sleep for the next three days.
Would some brilliant scientist please find a way for me to clone myself so I can sleep, do all the running around I need to do, and also attend to my children and the house? Today?
Thanks.
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