The Score

I have to fight the urge to rate myself at the end of the day. I have the disability/super power (depending on how you look at it) of not letting myself get over taxed. I was really discouraged after a particularly languid day, and my mom shed some light on this aspect of my world. She told me that when I was living at her house, she watched me, how I handled the stress of my day. She was amazed how in tune I am with what kind of resources I have left, how I always know what will make them regenerate. I love the way she sees that part of me., because a lot of the time, I feel like the world's biggest weenie. It's true, though, I have an innate self-preservation instinct that literally shuts me down when life gets to be too much. I need down time, processing time, and then I'm ready to face life again. If I waited for someone to say, "You've been working too hard, why don't you take a break?" I would die.
For example, last week we signed on our new house. This was a wrench. The loan process was especially gruelling, and you'd think closing would be a celebration. It felt more like a funeral to me. I buried my head in Guernsey Literary Society for the drive back, blinking back tears, and spent the rest of the day in bed. From noon on. I never slept, I was just there, on Guernsey, learning more about the Nazi occupation. The burden of my own world was just too heavy.
Being able to work yourself sick is seen as such a virtue. Isn't there a virtue in keeping yourself sane by taking the time to feel what you're feeling, acknowledge it, and make your way toward clarity?
If there is such a virtue, I'm its patron saint!
So here's the score for today:
One comprehensive list of every minute chore left on the house, color-coded by individual responsibility.
One trip to my second home, Home Depot, as soon as Lewis left for work.
One Whopper for breakfast, because the kids ate the last of the cocoa pebbles.
Two and a half hours drilling holes, hanging curtains, screwing in switch plates and chatting with my mom. Why does working with her make the time pass so quickly?
One more trip to Home Depot, an illicit rendezvous with my Honey. To buy doors. Ack! One of them needs to be special ordered. Bad news leaves me feeling wilted. My ears are buzzing and my lips are numb at this point.
Liam and I drive our bucking and snorting truck back home, and Liam asks if he can play Spore. Indeed he can! I grab a couple of books that aren't packed, and retreat to bed for a few hours.
Kim comes to see our renovations!
I was about to head back to bed when I noticed my icky hair. I shower, and face the passel of kids roaming my home and yard. Our exterior is being painted, and can you believe it? Four extra kids are running around. That makes 9 kids Victor has to keep from messing up his paint job.
Dainon and I conspire to move the TV back upstairs. It's huge, and takes two grown men to move, but I've been without TV for a month. Should I move it? No. But did we? Yes. We balanced it on a dolly and wedged it into the house. We plug it in with great anticipation. No channels. I call tech support. Channels! But no sound. After four calls to tech support, SUCCESS!
One quick trip to Fred Meyer for bread. How can they burn through bread so quickly?
A hastily prepared dinner, growing pains and sobs from the little one, push ups for the olders who aren't doing dishes when they should be. Some stolen time in front of the computer.
And I think I'm done.
I'd say today was a smashing success.
It may not be 9pm yet, but this Chicky is done.