Life was crazy in May. Life was supposed to settle down in June. I forgot that the first few days of June were the last few days of school. I also forgot that the Tayler family reunion was happening during the first week of June. And I neglected to think that during the Tayler family reunion, I’d be caring for three of my brother’s children thus upping my child count to 7 rather than 4. Oh and during all of this I’ve been inventing the methodology for shipping schlock books on a daily basis.
I’m pretty sure that “calm” and “routine” are out there somewhere, but I haven’t gotten anywhere near them yet.
I didn’t really put it all together until this afternoon when I found myself sitting on my front steps in the heat of the afternoon. I’d reached the point where I didn’t want to be near any of the children. I had to be close enough to hear screaming catastrophe, but I wanted to be able to ignore minor squabbling for awhile. I love family. I love my kids. I love my brother’s kids. But there has been a huge shortage of solitude over the past week.
The Tayler clan has dispersed. Tomorrow my brother retrieves his children. Part of me hopes that then I’ll have a chance to establish a stable routine where I can do all the good mommy things I’ve only been intending to do thus far this summer. Maybe then I’ll have a chance to get the laundry and the house back under control. But most of me really expects that something else will come up. Three weeks makes a habit and I’ve been moving from major event to major event for nigh 6 weeks now. The emptiness of next week’s calendar must surely be some sort of mirage.