So here's the thing. I'm officially working. And you know this because you've been reading here and are thinking, "sheesh, she acts like she's the only person to ever work and balance a family." Which I'm not, of course, but I have a renewed appreciation for those who do this regularly. And I had a very healthy appreciation for them to begin with. So this pretty much means that I now worship the ground you walk on, because truly, the only way you ever get through life is to perform miracles. And possibly walk on water.
I was gone one whole day and had two notes on the counter from phone calls. (Yes, just two. Stop laughing at my sad and rather pathetic life.) One was from Micah's therapist at school, wanting to set up a meeting with me since she wasn't able to meet before school started. The other was from someone I didn't know, but Becky told me that it was yet another therapist, wanting to also set up a meeting. I leave for work before anyone is at the school, and come home well after they are home again in the evening, so I'll have to return calls next week. I'm the Mom of the Year here, that's for sure.
Question: How does one make life happen when one works? I'm thinking the term "working lunch" happens every single day, doesn't it?
Luke's retainer broke, and I need to call the orthodontist for a repair. Josh needs a haircut. That should have happened, I guess, before school pictures tomorrow.
I got the last of my state clearances back on Saturday so that I can officially be a school employee, but I couldn't drop it off at the school because Monday was the one day I had off, and Monday was a holiday. That will be dropped off next week, but I guess that's fine since it's not like I could work this week anyway. I mean other than the work that I'm already working.
But while I was kind of loving being in an office this week, I'm next thing to terrified of working from home next week. Can I go to Starbucks and sit for a few hours to work? The distractions in the house are overwhelming. Listening to audio for translation requires concentration. Jack And The Pack are distractions. The constant cry of "what do you have NOW, Jack?!" is generally followed up with something akin to, "Do you need to go outside?" or "Jack! You're supposed to do that outside."
Someone needs to volunteer to housebreak Jack. Any takers? It pays. In homemade salsa. And pickles. And gobs. I have to throw in gobs if I'm going to get any takers here, right?
So anyhoo, while this week was rather fun-ish, next week is going to be murder on me. All the things I couldn't do this week will have to be done, and I'll still have to work.
Question: How does one make life happen when one works?