The Coach asked me last night how things were going.
The short answer is great. Things are great. Kids are doing well (for the most part). I'm still here (at least physically). My pants still fit (And who am I kidding? There are always yoga pants!).
But the long (er) answer?
I wasn't planning on having a girlie home with fever two days this week (well, fever one day and recovery the next). The list is LONG. So long I'm about ready to just delete is all and start over. Can I do that? The same for the email. At what point is it beyond any hope?
I LOVE my life. I LOVE my Coach. I LOVE my kids. I LOVE Fall, football, my precious family and friends. And I'm not being cliche' when I say I am abundantly blessed.
I'm so easily overwhelmed. Some days I see the boxes in the sunroom, the piles on the desk, the mess in the garage, the ironing by the dryer, the bathroom cabinets, the boxes in our bedroom, the closet...
It gets to me.
The Coach, as usual, was quick to tell me that it will eventually all get done. Which I'm not too sure about.
My current daily expectations are pretty low:
Feed the Troops (this requires, shopping, prep, cooking, baking, and clean up. Every day. Several times on some days.).
Keep up with the Laundry (including various uniforms for various sports and occasionally an open washer and dryer for one very pretty college student) (even though I actually also HAVE a very handsome college student, but he never seems to have time to come home and see his momma. Hint.).
Maintain a Household Standard of "Not Gross" (as opposed to my former standard of "clean").
A lot of things aren't making the list right now. Sometimes even the basics don't get done. Can you say "leftovers"? The most important things around here are not the things. I'm trying to remember.
Maybe some day I'll get back to to all. The years of photos that haven't been organized or put into albums. The boxes in the attic. The empty baby books. The dirty windows. The bulging file drawers. The kids' closets.
For now, Little Man wants to tell me about the teepees that he's been making. And I'd rather listen to him than wash windows. As long as I can't see them out of the corner of my eye.
The grass withereth, the flower fadeth: but the word of our God shall stand for ever. (Is. 40:8)