Where's the Peace?
Two days of school left.
I'm exhausted.
My Christmas spirit is veering toward the grinchy side. Possibly because every morning I wake up having put yet another crazy day behind me and panic because I have a load of stuff to do that day that I haven't even prepared for. My coping mechanism has been to focus only on the next bit of craziness (the whole one bite at a time concept) but it means that every day when I make up a list of what my next priorities are my response is "Oh, crap!!!" Like yesterday, when I realized last minute that I absolutely had to get to the post office to get packages shipped out because I wasn't going to have any other time to do it that would still allow the stuff to get there on time. (And still, my mother-in-law's gift will be late because I got way behind the eight ball on that one. In my defense, Terence himself suggested that I push her gift down my to-do list. I still feel horribly guilty about it.)
There is still Christmas shopping to finish up. I have a piano recital, train park visit, treat plates for neighbors, an extended family dinner/white elephant gift exchange, gingerbread house decorating, a gazillion things to wrap, some more Christmas cards to send out, and a Christmas breakfast to plan and shop for. And oh yeah, I have stuff that I need to pick up to be sent in for the kids' school parties. That's on top of all the normal stuff (like dishes, laundry, teaching piano, feeding the family, marathon training, driving all over tarnation, preparing for primary-- yikes, my chest is tightening up already).
Proof that my sanity is snapping: one of my characters in the book I'm currently writing yelled at me inside my head the other day for leaving him hanging. Yeah, my characters are talking to me. (Granted I've heard of this happening with other authors but I'd never experienced it before. It was a surreal experience. Possibly Inkheart-- which I've been reading aloud to the kids at night-- is going to my head....)
Just because when it rains it pours, it's been heavy period time the last couple of days, and my stupid cold came back in force again (I've been trying to fight it off for at least a month now-- or actually more like six weeks, ugh).
I'm ready to crawl beneath my covers and hide all day with a book. Maybe December 26th. Well, after my training run of 2.5 hours on Dec. 26th. Oh man. I've got my work cut out for me!
I'm exhausted.
My Christmas spirit is veering toward the grinchy side. Possibly because every morning I wake up having put yet another crazy day behind me and panic because I have a load of stuff to do that day that I haven't even prepared for. My coping mechanism has been to focus only on the next bit of craziness (the whole one bite at a time concept) but it means that every day when I make up a list of what my next priorities are my response is "Oh, crap!!!" Like yesterday, when I realized last minute that I absolutely had to get to the post office to get packages shipped out because I wasn't going to have any other time to do it that would still allow the stuff to get there on time. (And still, my mother-in-law's gift will be late because I got way behind the eight ball on that one. In my defense, Terence himself suggested that I push her gift down my to-do list. I still feel horribly guilty about it.)
There is still Christmas shopping to finish up. I have a piano recital, train park visit, treat plates for neighbors, an extended family dinner/white elephant gift exchange, gingerbread house decorating, a gazillion things to wrap, some more Christmas cards to send out, and a Christmas breakfast to plan and shop for. And oh yeah, I have stuff that I need to pick up to be sent in for the kids' school parties. That's on top of all the normal stuff (like dishes, laundry, teaching piano, feeding the family, marathon training, driving all over tarnation, preparing for primary-- yikes, my chest is tightening up already).
Proof that my sanity is snapping: one of my characters in the book I'm currently writing yelled at me inside my head the other day for leaving him hanging. Yeah, my characters are talking to me. (Granted I've heard of this happening with other authors but I'd never experienced it before. It was a surreal experience. Possibly Inkheart-- which I've been reading aloud to the kids at night-- is going to my head....)
Just because when it rains it pours, it's been heavy period time the last couple of days, and my stupid cold came back in force again (I've been trying to fight it off for at least a month now-- or actually more like six weeks, ugh).
I'm ready to crawl beneath my covers and hide all day with a book. Maybe December 26th. Well, after my training run of 2.5 hours on Dec. 26th. Oh man. I've got my work cut out for me!
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