At Least I Can Cross 'Teach Ollie To Vacuum' Off My List

I am writing this post
mostly for myself. Mostly because I continue to live in a haze of surrealism (melting clocks, that sort of thing) and I need to remember what I am doing.

What am I doing?

Tomorrow I will get the girls off to school. I will clip The Chief's fingernails. In an act of love, he went to smother my face and scratched my cheek skin. It still stings. I love those kisses, but his nails have got to be trimmed.

Tomorrow I will pray that the shiner Jane accidentally gave me last night will stop swelling and causing me blurry vision and minor pain.

(Motherhood wounds, you know.)

Tomorrow I will start packing for Arizona. All six of us (good gravy) need clean underwear and a visit back to our summer clothes.

Tomorrow I will pick out paint with Lisa for a family project (at two o'clock, don't forget!)

Remove fingernail polish (red) from Claire's cute fingernails (what? is there a theme here?)

Welcome Chup home from a week-long working trip. Toronto. Thank heavens not Orlando.

Tomorrow I will find time to buy new jeans. To wear everyday of my life, or until I lose this postpartum weight. AND I WILL LOSE IT.

Saturday we will fly to Arizona.

Saturday we will meet Lucy and Ric there too.

Saturday the children will be reunited with their daddy, who will be discharged from the rehab facility to his parent's home. For awhile.

Saturday I will see my sister awake for the first time in two months.

(Saturday requires my brave heart.)

Saturday we will go early to the concert for the girl's sound check.

We will meet with hundreds of friends.

And Mindy will entertain us together.

And the girls will sing.

And I will cry.

(So will you.)

On Sunday I'll check out Jaimee Rose's article about us in the Arizona Republic.

(She better make me look good.)

On Sunday we'll go to church.

And rest.

Because that is what we do on the Sabbath.

(Oh boy, am I going to need it.)

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