It is nearing midnight and my three year old daughter is laying sideways on my pillows, arms and legs splayed out, and my one year old son is curled up like a shrimp on the foot of my bed. I am still wearing my bathrobe from the shower I took four hours ago, and I never did comb my hair so I have no idea how I'm going to wear my wavy, cow-licked hair tomorrow.
I know that I should be in bed. I should have drank more water today and eaten less of that drool-worthy sandwich. I should have lined up someone to grade our new yard. I should have made that appointment for the 18 month check-up that James should have gone to last month. I should have exercised. I should have paid the car bill. I should have read more books to the kids and watched less television. I should have not cared so much about the cedar chips that cover the kids every time they play outside. I should have written in my blog in, oh I don't know, maybe the past few weeks?
I wonder if I'll ever get better at this, the prioritizing of time. I know that there are some things that I love to do, and yet, I find myself going two days, a week, a month, without doing them.
However, the house is getting built, the kids are staying fed, relatively clean, and joyously happy. There is money in the bank. I'm healthy, and alive, and growing more peaceful and accepting and, dare I say it, happy every day.