When my children were smaller (and they are still so small, it feels weird to say that), I had more time somehow.
I remember the relentlessness of the newborn schedule, the sleeplessness and the constant need, but somehow room to think was built in to the routine.
[As long as I had a little sleep.]
I find it difficult to think at all lately.
I'm back at work, more or less full time.
The children are involved in different activities, they have different friends and this summer they will, for the first time, attend two different programs.
Soon I will drop them off at two different locations each morning -- and the locations will change from week to week.
Things fall apart.
I have been to the grocery store every single day for the last 10 days.
It's as if the salsa-to chip-ratio problem (also pervasive in the hot-dog-to-bun sphere) has infected my entire grocery list.
I can no longer get the shopping right in a single, weekly trip like a normal, well adjusted Woman of the House.
[Oh, my failure as the Woman of the House!]
On Saturday morning in a fit of household management vertigo, I engaged the kids in a massive calendar making activity, mapping out the diagram of our summer.
It didn't make me feel in any greater command of the details, but we did use crayons!
Every night when K and I crash land in our bed (far too late), we talk like any couple, about the day, the children, our incessant need for another carton of eggs, coffee, string cheese...
"I don't know what I think or feel about anything," I lamented.
"I am like a computer processing unit," K replied. "I take in information, synthesize it and spit it back out all day long."
"We're almost out of eggs."
"I forgot to pay the daycare tuition."
"Goodnight."[The bodies are set to hibernate for six hours, then rise irritatingly early and begin again.]
What was that Socrates said about the unexamined life?