Tuesday

In the early mornings is when I blog.  Or write at all, really.  This isn't because I'm hugely productive at this time of day or because I especially love dawn.  I do not love dawn.  No, I write in the morning because after a good sleep I am the least stressed and anxious I will be all day and that gives me the opportunity to get at least a few chicken scratches down on metaphorical paper before someone is poking someone else in the eye with a fork or one child starts screaming because the other one got to touch the cat's ear and they didn't.

I'm sitting in bed, at the ridiculously late hour of seven-thirty, hurriedly typing because I can hear my saintly husband not yelling at whomever just clearly broke that glass in the kitchen, and trying not to think of the fact that he is going to be working all day and so am I, but in our separate spheres.  He will go to the deep, quiet church and write, and then he will likely go on many visits to the various people who need to talk to him.  I, on the other hand, will spend my morning trying to make dentist's appointments for people who hate dentists, and do so to the soundtrack of the children (who have recently discovered the cd of Shrek 'music' that one of us purchased back when we clearly the stupidest pre-parents ever and thought it would be so fun for a future child) yelling "NOT MY BUTTONS!"

That sentence might have been a bit hysterical.

Full-term pregnant women should not be allowed to manage household duties alone.  Yesterday I spent a large portion of my afternoon trying to keep the children outside while I called the local wholesale shopping place to figure out why I could not find their price list online.  Eventually my customer helper person (what politically correct term are we using for this job now?)  admitted to me that she was new at her job and transferred me to a manager.  On that topic, why on earth is the phone transfer system set up the way it is?  You explain everything to someone, then they say 'I'm going to transfer you to blahblah', and then you are transferred to someone whom they have clearly not bothered to explain anything to, and you now re-tell your tale, and then THEY SOMETIMES TRANSFER YOU.  It's incredibly disheartening.

I would say that moving closer to family would help, but probably it would not.  Probably not much other than the Holy Spirit working in the hearts of the retail industry and possibly a very large coffee is going to help me today.