A Stitch in Time Saves Nine

Ok, what the heck does that mean - a stitch in time saves nine?! Tracy tried to tell the kids that it was a saying which referred to the pros of being a quality stitcher. Is this true?! It sounds good, but Tracy could be full of crap - that's what drew me to him initially, the ability to fling crap -- NO, that's why I like monkeys. Anyway, I have other things to discuss...

Like, why have I written NADA in forever? Let me tell you why - I have NO time alone. I always have someone near me or in my face. I go to sleep at ridiculously late hours not by choice, but because we've had so much going on around here. After going to bed late, I wake up at 6 a.m. to feed the baby. Sometimes she goes back to sleep. Sometimes she doesn't. Lily is so amazingly cute in the morning that I'm not very annoyed with her early morning exuberance. I have, on occasion, brought her into bed with me after she's had her bottle and have completely zonked out with her tucked in my arm. She usually zonks out as well and we both wake up happy about an hour later.

Back to not being alone ... I'm never alone! I am a person who thrives on time alone. I like it. I need it. People get me "all wound up" as Grandma would say. I can only wind so far until I break. Which leads me to this morning. I broke and it wasn't pretty.

I woke up just ticked off at the world. Not good. I smiled at Lily and loved on her while she had a bottle - and of course - it was a day she wanted to be awake. I put her in the swing and checked email, ebay listings, and blogs when Abby comes downstairs. Abby is a sweet girl, but she has her moments - and she was about to have a moment. She had already been up for awhile and taken a bath so I say, "Wow! Thanks for getting your bath so early! Let's go get that hair dry before it dries funky." She says, "Can I do ____ and then dry it?" SURE! Why not? Fast forward to drying time and Abby's moment --- she says, "Mooooooommmmm, I caaaan't stand up. My leeeeegs hurt from staaaaanding." Why of course they do! You're 11 years old. It's perfectly normal to have joint problems at your advanced age. Even though I'm so irritated, I am amiable and try to accommodate her whim. I do this pretty well until the millionth whine and then I spout out something like, "My goodness! Just hold it together for two minutes! I swear I'll still be doing your hair when you're 25!!" Which hurts her feelings. Bad Mommy!! BAD MOMMY!! Wait...haven't had my breakdown yet.

After hair drying annoyance, I look forward to crawling back into my giant fluffy bed since Tracy is now awake and can take care of the baby for awhile. When I come out of the bathroom, my giant fluffy bed is ... made. MADE!! I begin to crack a little as I whine, "WHAT?! YOU MADE THE BED? ARE YOU KIDDING ME??" Tracy, utterly confused since bed making is usually praised and not whined about, says, "I can tear it apart if you want me to..." To which I utter while shaking my head, "OH! never mind!"

I decide to head to the kitchen to feed the baby. I am going down fast - my mood has just about tanked when Noah asks me what he can to eat. Some of you may not know that Noah is a boy who loves breakfast meat. As I run down the list of breakfast protein, he begins to shoot down everything I suggest. When I suggest a chicken biscuit he asks, "Is it fried chicken?" "Um, no. It's chicken I made last night. You know - the roast chicken you love." He says, "Oh." Obviously he's not impressed. And then he asked the question which he would have been better off NOT asking, "Mom, did you make the chicken with a HINT of lemon?" I give him a quizzical look, "Yes." He says, "I don't care for a HINT of lemon on my chicken in the morning." SERIOUSLY?! SERIOUSLY?! So I say, "You must not be very hungry this morning. Hungry people don't worry about hints of lemon." Which makes him cry. BAD MOMMY. BAAAAD MOMMY! Now I'm cracking BIG time.

I turn into a five year old. I don't talk. Tracy and Noah are both trying to talk to me and I'm stoic. If I say anything it will be sarcastic and mean and make more people cry. I mean, already my sarcasm has hurt Abby's feelings, confused Tracy, and made Noah cry. What more can I do? I should just pinch Lily to create the perfect storm! But I don't because my words are my hurtful weapons - or my tone ... whatever. Seeing my state of being, Tracy tells Noah, "Go apologize to Mom. She was just trying to help you with breakfast." Noah comes and puts his arm around me and I totally lose it. I start crying and I can't stop. I feel like the worst Mom on the face of the Earth. I want to run away ... preferably to Elizabeth Arden for a facial.

Tracy and Noah slowly back away from me, secure the baby and give me some space. I was wound up too tight.

Next week, nothing is going on around here. There are no camps, no bunco, no activity days, nada. I think I may instill a two hour rest period in the afternoon where all parties must retire to their rooms for alone time. I may also force Tracy to work at his office. Having all five of us home all the time is too much!

Soooo...for any of you who had the impression that I was Glenda-on-the-ball --- guess again. Even the most fabulous of us have our moments!