My head, she is 'sploding with things going on. And I am looking at the lake with much longing and coveting and yearning and envy and lust in my heart, yea verily.
Where do I begin?
Cutie will be a big sister at the end of June. However, there are some problems with some things about some stuff there.
Little Man and Sweetie Pie will be a big brother and big sister come August.
Pseudo Daughter has her own unique set of problems.
The Boy has an interview for a job.
The Girl is graduating from high school. Along with that comes Senior pictures, the actual graduation ceremony, and the planning and execution of a graduation reception. Prom is this weekend. There is the perfect dress, the perfect shoes, the perfect flowers, the perfect hairdo, the perfect limo, the perfect pedicure and manicure, the perfect date....and rain in the forecast.
My car needs new tires. The Tire Fairy (read Hubster) has not offered to replace my tires yet, so I need to see to that before one of them decides to go flat during my trips back and forth to work.
I am the only one in my house that knows how to use the kitchen to prepare an actual meal on a regular basis. Others can make sandwiches, snack, peruse the cabinets and refrigerator and complain about the lack of food. Hubster even does the dishes and takes out the trash. But nine times out of ten, I am the only one who cooks.
We are out of edible food in the house because I have not had time nor energy to go grocery shopping. And yet there is no room in the refrigerator or freezer. Go figure.
The house is a mess. I know, there's nothing new there, but it doesn't help matters.
At work, we're in the process of moving to a new building for 5-6 months so the heating and air conditioning can be reworked/replaced/renewed. I'm one of the organizers of the move who makes sure everyone gets everything they need as far as phone service, a desk, boxes to move, coffee, a place to park, a chair to sit in, etc.
I am under absolutely no pressure whatsoever in the coming months. My life is a breeze. I have no complaints at all. And if I do, I hide them so very well you can't possibly tell.
That is, between the times when I'm whining and crying and beating the floor with my fists and feet and kicking small animals and yelling and screaming while alternately sitting in the corner sucking my thumb and rocking back and forth after my head has exploded.
And missing Mom. That seems to be a constant as well.