Today, like most days, I got up long before my body was happy to scrape itself out of bed. I'd been up a few hours earlier after hearing Sonny Ma-Jiminy crying in his sleep. He'd said, "I had a dream. It was a good dream. But I cried." And being unable to work my way through the fuzz of that logic, I told him it was okay and he could now close his eyes and wake up when it was morning.
After getting up, I cooked a big pot of porridge (oats) and mixed in grated apple and sultanas and sprinkled cinnamon on top. Tasty and healthy, and also filling because my kids ask for seconds of this instead of refusing and wasting food, which is what they do with cereal and milk. I packed Sonny's kindy lunch box, wrestled him into kindy clothes, loaded the car with kids and bags and off we went to kindy.
I then went across town to a bank branch to sort out a mortgage rapayment fiasco that I couldn't sort out on the phone due to my interlocutor being an unhelpful man with a thick Indian accent. Spoke to an extremely competant Australian lady, and all was sorted in 20 minutes. I went to the council to register the dog, carrying Smoochy Girl who practised saying "reg-mumble gog" as we went.
I went to the town library and got a Library card and 15 books, 5 of which are for ME, ALL FOR ME and will save me from re-re-reading the selected few of my own books I've yet found in the bowels of boxes.
Home - Smoochy aggressively resisted a nap - lunch - out again.
Grocery shopping which is essential for me, and patting The Plastic Dog which is essential for Smoochy. You know The Plastic Dog? The Guide Dogs donation box? I went looking for a picture of one, just so you knew what it was at the shops that was so essential to lavish love on before we left. Mr de Elba found these 3 pictures of similar Plastic Dogs that I had to share with you.
So yeah, that got patted and climbed on and "ridden" then the two mechanical rides at our local shops were ridden (without money or actual movement), the Leaving Tantrum was had and we went off to Grandma and Grandpa's house to offload recycling that won't fit in our bin, to reclaim baby clothes that were stored there and to water their plants, because they're away.
Time to get Sonny from Kindy and begin the endless roundabout of "I need an apple - I need an apple PLEASE - I need more apple - PLEASE - I need a different DVD - I was going to say 'PLEASE' but I was only taking a breath and you didn't give me enough time to say 'PLEASE'" while I was trying to cook a meal, clean a kitchen, get clothes off the line before they got damp, and manage a small girl who hadn't slept all day.
Early dinner, pumpkin soup liberally dripped all over two small children (some in tummies too I assume) and off to the bath, Crazy Play sans clothing, Crazy Play with clothing, and head bumps and tears resulting from Crazy Play.
Demoralising time putting Smoochy to bed, getting Sonny in trouble for disrupting the sleeping process, Sonny's tantrum and locking self in room, Smoochy again aggressively resisting sleep and screaming herself into a puddle of fatigue in her cot, then silence as both children fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.
Mr de Elba came home and I heated up pumpkin soup for him, tidied a bit, had a shower, and now I sit here with my head in danger of thumping down onto the keyboard as I fall asleep mid-sentence, partly from utter fatigue, partly from the desperation of knowing that tomorrow morning it all starts again. Early. And without the benefit of 5.5 hours of kindy.
Where in the middle of all that is time (or desire) to open a box and deal with a hundred similarly-wrapped packages, many of which enclose assortments of objects like this?
Every. Single. Day. For. 31. Days?
13 comments:
I like the seal picture!
Scrape one's self out of bed--perfect description! *yawns*
Well.... I think I pick the boxes. They sound less exhausting! ;)
Hang on - Femina's got a point!!
Where do those crazy loser packers get off wrapping up a lid, a spoon, and scissors?
Burn the remaning boxes.
Leave the remaining boxes packed for the next month. If you don't miss the items, you don't need them. Then you can sell them on ebay as 'mystery treasure boxes' and watch the fools bid. You'll make a fortune! (And I have dibs on a cut since it was my idea.)
Glad its the weekend. Hope everyone sleeps better for you tonight.
♥
Joy
Femina is the smartest person on the face of this planet. Both options are all kind of viable, and I love it.
And I want to give you fourteen hugs a day for all you do.
Leaving Tantrum. LOL!
I hate unpacking more than packing. Seriously. But you do learn what you can do without very quickly.
I always seem to have a bigger yardsale AFTER I move than before.
Please just don't unpack, I am exhausted from just reading this and I am not pregnant. The boxes can totally wait.
I didn't know about the plastic dogs. If we had those here, Miss Pink would be all over them.
I'd leave the boxes packed. But when you need something, how will you know which box has the correct random item in it?
Those guide dog photos are great. Even better than the Darwin one from google maps.
I think you will feel better once all the boxes are unpacked so I suggest you ignore the naysayers and just keep plowing through the boxes until they are gone - what about you turn it into a competition - see how many you can unpack in a day? Ok you aren't as competitive as me so that may not work...hmmm. Anyway I think you need to continue with the unpacking because you do not want to still have lots of stuff to unpack 6 months from now - the OCD will set in :)
I REALLY like the plastic seeing eye dog. I suspect we don't have those in the U.S. because EVERY ONE would be stolen, pretty much imediately. And not even nesesarily for the donations, just because they're big plastic retreivers. With guide dog harnesses.
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