Well, very little, at least.
I have a few ideas rattling around in my head, but they require work to compose. You know. Research and thought and wordsmithing (is that a word?), and well–I just can’t muster that up tonight.
So, I think I’m just going to brain-dump, a la, my diary circa 1985, which would give you whiplash just trying to keep up with all the characters and goings-on.
Today was nutty. I have a deadline to meet for writing a unit for Bible Lessons for Youth. It was due today. But I didn’t get it turned in today. Monday, people. Monday. I will finish it this weekend.
(And I say that here in this public forum for my own accountability.)
After I deposited the boys at school, I scurried to the church office to work on the books (I pay bills and balance the account–one of my four part-time jobs) and get a financial report to our officers. Then it dawns on me that:
- I haven’t eaten a thing.
- I am starving.
- I have a headache that feels like someone is sawing my neck at the base of my head.
- I have to get a book order form to Sus’ school TODAY.
- I have to leave for a hair appointment in 15 minutes because I look like Shaggy.
Like crazy, I rush home and change for my appointment. I decide to go through McDonald’s drive-thru (true confession time here) for a bite to eat. I gobble down 600 mg of ibuprofen and a Coke (more caffeine).
My headache eases and the appointment is enjoyable. I have just enough time to jet back across town to school and drop the envelope, then pick up the boys, then go back to school to join the pick-up line.
I hate days like that, but also?
I’m secretly proud of my multitasking, multischeduling, most-efficient use of my time.
Some days, I really confuse myself.
Random parenting tip: If your child wakes screaming/crying with leg cramps, give the child ibuprofen. Get the child up into your lap to snuggle or rock. Rub the leg. Lightly cover the child in bed and/or turn on a fan to make sure the child is not too hot.
All of our kids have these from time to time, and this always works. Sometimes it’s hard to know what’s going on. I can almost time it–about 10 minutes after the medicine, the child is visibly more comfortable and can rest.