If there were a word that emphasized random even more I would use it.
I feel like I jump from thing to thing, always diving in full force, and although I usually will see that thing through (mostly because I hate that "what-if" feeling), there are times I don't.
For instance, there was this time when I was in 8th grade and was fascinated by all things John F. Kennedy, and I rented the Warren Commission Report from the library, convinced all that was needed was my fresh set of eyes, and I could solve JFK's murder.
Or the time when I was even younger (maybe 8 or 9) and after a trip to The Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, and being enthralled in the Ancient Egypt exhibit, I bought a book on hieroglyphics, and decided I would teach myself to be fluent in them. (I'm not sure if that is the correct terminology, but you get the idea.)
Gosh I was a strange child.
Okay, gosh I am a strange person.
Is it any surprise then, that I am throwing myself into the latest project full force. As I said before, I can't say just yet what it is, but I will say I have spent almost all weekend purging my house of junk and clutter and scrubbing surfaces, and basically getting it "production ready."
We have a producer coming over on Tuesday to meet my family.
No I am not getting my own TLC show.
And although I have jumped in feet first, and I am excited about the possibilities of this project, we have not officially booked it yet, and I am always worried about silly things.
What kinds of things?
Sure I'll tell you.
I am worried that our dog won't stop barking at new people.
I am worried Brody will insist on wearing some strange concoction of clothes.
I am worried Keira will turn into her attitude filled alter-ego and give people her mad face.
I am worried Ty will roll his eyes, and tell people his entire family is crazy.
I am worried Nate will go on and on and on about some fantastical story, that starts out true and then takes a sharp turn somewhere into the wolves that live in our backyard and hunt raccoons and snakes who he growls at and fights with his bare hands.
I am worried Nathan will never forgive me for this.
Those are just a few.
But then I think of the opportunities and memories, and potential it has, and I forget all about those worries.
Until I am in bed thinking about that closet that needs to be cleaned out, and wondering if they will ask to look inside it, and then they will open it and books and dvds and board games and thousands of Legos, and all those shoes missing a mate will fall all over them and bury them alive and then I'll have to cal 9-1-1 and explain that I didn't know they were going to open that closet, and I'll have to apologize to their families.
I have no idea where Nate gets his imagination from.
I am just about done with the house though.
I cleaned Friday.
Saturday I went from errands, to dropping of Ty with his friend, to a baby shower, to a birthday party, to the library, to getting Ty to crashing and swearing I'd never pack a day so full again.
Sunday I cleaned (and cooked too) from 9am to 5:11pm.
I know it was 5:11 because I asked Nathan earlier in the day if I could leave for the gym at 5, but I was delayed while feeding the kids dinner, and so 5:11 I walked out the door.
I came home to give the kids baths and get them ready and in bed, then put away 4 loads of laundry, and shower, and finally at 10:30 I sat down to relax. I think I lasted a whole half hour before I was fast asleep.
Weekend wrap-up photos:
This is my diet. I ate about 1/4 of this before I was stuffed.
This is Nate, practicing his torturing skills on my poor cat, Bella.
This is my mudroom/sunporch. It is empty and spotless. It is a miracle.
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