I need a vacation.
Okay, obviously that isn't true, since no one really NEEDS a vacation and there are millions of people who never ever get one and they manage just fine.
But tell that to my dark circles, my epic bedhead, and my new earplugs.
Earplugs you ask? Yes. To block out all the sounds. Because, you know, I live in a like 1200 sq ft house, and I have 9 kids, 2 dogs and 2 cats.
Speaking of which, does anybody want 2 dogs and 2 cats? Or nine kids?
I'll admit, I spent a good part of the morning looking at pictures of serenity. Mountain views, lake houses, beaches. Little b&bs snuggled into cute little picturesque towns.
Heck, hotel rooms look pretty inviting at this point. I could soak in the tub and sprawl out on the bed and watch reruns to my heart's content.
I've found myself smack in the middle of a case of hardcore burnout.
I've begun referring to my precious children as vermicious knids. But in my defense, they have been acting like giant trolls lately. And I am still mothering and loving them, so I feel like I should get a gold star or something. Even if I do want to bite them from time to time. Hey, I don't actually do it, so I think I should get another gold star. Yes, 2 gold stars for me today.
Justice has been adjusting to new medication and he is making me question whether I will survive him with a shred of sanity, while Ella Grace has been uncharacteristically cranked out. And I'd think it was because she was teething, except I've felt all around her gummy little mouth and don't feel a darn thing. I'm typically the easy going mama who knows it'll all happen eventually, but she is 13 freaking months old and doesn't have any teeth yet and I've already imagined having to buy little baby dentures and really? I'm not up for that.
Riley and Dylan fight like cats and dogs and make me wish I owned a tazer. They make me cover my ears with my hands and rock like a mental patient and yell la la la la la. Aiden is pretty mellow right now but Owen has made up for it by deciding his greatest aspirations in life are to make the Guiness book for oldest toddler to give up a pacifier and youngest nudist. Because the kid only ever wears underwear, and they're usually on backwards.
I've resigned myself to being the mom with a bunch of ragamuffin kids. I don't even care anymore if their socks match as long as they're wearing them. Matching is for poor, linear type families, and we are creative, artsy types. Yeah, that's it. Mismatched socks build character and promote imagination. Yep. I'm going with that.
I give my kids high fives for wearing clothes without rips or stains to church. I've stopped begging Libby to wear her cute dresses and instead I smile at her jeans while she applies lip gloss and perfume and I feel adequately satisfied that she is just feminine enough and it's not that big of a deal.
I miss my grandparents, maybe because they made me feel secure and stable and right now I feel all impulsive and flighty. Like maybe it would be better to drink coffee with Grandma at her kitchen table, or watch the History channel with Pa, than to, oh, I don't know, get dreadlocks or sing karaoke with a bunch of drunks or start writing a torrid romance novel or something.
Hmmm. Dreadlocks. Yeah, not really. But, you know. It's just whatever.
So, today I'm going to go buy our pool membership for the summer and pack an ice chest and swim as hard as I can until I'm exhausted. Maybe I'll bring a flask of vodka. Kidding! I'll listen to my teenager play his new 12-string and I will close my eyes and float away.
And then I'm going to eat my body weight in sushi at the local restaurant. Maybe I'll go see the Great Gatsby, even though it got terrible reviews, and maybe I'll love it. Maybe I'll listen to every single Beatles album, in order, and beat my family at cards and tease them all for being losers.
Or, maybe I'll do face masks with my sister and my daughter and go to bed early.
Yeah, probably not.
Tomorrow, I am going to go to my church, which is now meeting in an elementary school, and I am going to jump up and down and raise my hands high and party like it's 1999 and try to suck in enough strength and hope and love to get me through the next week. I'm going to hug and kiss all my loves and be grateful when I see Him in the little and the big. I'm going to just let go.
Because otherwise, Imma end up in a white padded room, folks.