This morning while Steve took Noah to have bloodwork done, I cleaned the kitchen, both bathrooms, rotated/put away laundry, vacuumed, and took out the trash.
I don't know what I was thinking.
While I'm relieved to have these things finished, (I do function better this way!) I'm totally discouraged by how weak & sore I feel, how quickly these things become undone again, and guilty about not spending that time reading or coloring with the twins. I yelled at the cats today, lost my temper when Josiah wouldn't stop whining about having a cookie, (of all things) and had to drag a screaming Lilly to get her diaper changed. And I still can't find our bedroom remote which is a real pain because it's nice to have a show on in the middle of the night when Noah's eating.
I hate how restless Josiah and Lilly are. I desperately wish the weather was nice and we could walk outside or go to the park. They've outplayed all their toys and I've run out of tricks for keeping them entertained. I'm beginning to despise the TV and resent the amount of toys I stumble over. Also, I hate Playdough. It gets in every crevasse of the carpet.
In the midst of all the chaos today, I learned something valuable. You should only do one load of laundry at a time. By this I mean that you should wash, dry, and put away a load before you even think of putting another one in. I try to do these marathon laundry days which result in piles of unsorted, wrinkled clothes. It always stresses me out.
One day at a time; one problem at a time; one goal at a time. One load of laundry.
Noah is a gem; completely perfect. Other than not wanting to sleep in his bassinet (hmmm) his calm snuggling is the very best. He fits so well in our family! Is it possible to have missed someone before they were even around?
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