I'm usually not one to complain about the weather...
Or maybe I should have said like them......
After being cooped inside for days on end, everyone's patience is starting to wear thin - especially mine, since it gets tried and stretched the most already. While the incessant rain provides the perfect excuse for ditching outdoor chores - except for Husband who, though he hates working wet, spent last weekend stringing pig-fence in a downpour - I fail to see why it makes loading the dishwasher or cleaning the basement playroom impossible!
One thing that hasn't suffered from monsoon-itis is Third Child's culinary creativity. The more it pours, the more lemon poppy seed muffins, chocolate chip cookies and microwave brownie-in-a-mugs remnants I find when I get home from work. If only I could channel her interest into meal preparation instead of just baking!
I'd like to let things simmer quietly, season with more prayer and less worry, to avoid boiling over. But while I'm a pretty good cook, I'm lousy at following simple recipes. Just ask Hubby and the Critters - I have to doctor everything. And an overactive imagination, while great for a writer, is often the worst ingredient on a mother's pantry shelf.
The two oldest Critters were 45 minutes late the other night, and I had them lying bloody in a ditch, while I lay sleepless, caught in a continual loop of mental agitation. Third Child complained of sleeping poorly and I envisioned death by sleep apnea. Likewise Bonus Baby --- she often feels breathless when crying, and I see asthma attacks plaguing both of our futures. And don't get me started on Sweetie Petite-y! If one more thing goes wrong with that child I'm really gonna crack!
I worry about family. I worry about work. I worry about worrying. One of my most worrisome worries right now is that my novel (which I worry no one will like) will never get published because the printer likes it so much he's stolen it to plagiarize and sell under his own nom de plume! Crazy, right?
Yeah, I thought so too.
Disclaimer: The incoherent ramblings documented here are not, and never shall be, documented proof of this Momster's instability. They are, indeed, fictitious ramblings, and not the product of a sleep deprived and over worked nature, and therefore not admissable as evidence of the temporary insanity known as parenthood....or are they?????