I am SO READY for our upcoming vacation. SO. READY.
There’s nothing bad going on. Our lives are not suddenly more complicated, more stressful, more angst-filled. We’re not planning any huge foreign holiday or anything like that.
We’re just at that part of the show where OMG NEED A VACATION.
To be fair, work has been a bit more stressful of late. BDH is working insane hours, but that is in preparation for the two weeks we will be on vacation and he won’t actually be working, so that he won’t come back to an avalanche of work. So, he’s doing, what, a pre-avalanche dig-out? The work equivalent of firing shots into a head of snow at the top of a mountain to cause the avalanche to fall in a controlled fashion? I dunno.
Me, I’ve been reconciling accounts for an entity I work with that haven’t been reconciled SINCE 2009. If ever, even. The last official date was at the beginning of 2009 so let’s just say then. And I have been reconciling the staggeringly confusing entries of people for whom bookkeeping and accounting is not their profession (nor is it mine) but like me they were just given a system and told “Here. This is your job now.”
So that’s been fun. Especially given that in one of my previous lives, it was determined that accounting had a logic of it’s own that I would never, ever be able to absorb or understand with my tiny brainmeats.
And then there’s just been the day-to-day stuff. I have been doing battle with our pool this week, trying to clear up water that won’t be cleared no way, no how, and fancying myself a Grown Up Who Knows Things About Such Things while bandying about terms like “alkaline” and “algaecide” and “shock”. I’ve been trying, and mostly failing, to continue my exercise-and-eating-better schtick while That Girl is in residence for the summer and demanding time and attention. And the endless housecleaning that is not getting done as frequently or completely as it should.
Cinnamon continues to be poorly, although you would not know it given she’s chipper and affectionate — she’s just slowly starving. I dance attendance on her, trying to feed her something like six times a day, but thankfully am no longer trying to pill her. And tomorrow we meet with the vet to decide on Cinnamon’s fate, a conversation that neither BDH nor myself, nor probably our most excellent vet, wants to have, but know is necessary.
When I am not pulling my hair out with accounting puzzlements or cajoling a small elderly cat to eat, I am, ostensibly, preparing the house for our upcoming holiday by cleaning and doing laundry and such, and preparing ourselves, by packing clothes and Happy Fun Travel Bag for That Girl and preparing homework for her to do. All of which is going along… oh who am I kidding, IT’S NOT SO MUCH. Fairly hit and miss, at this point.
And then there’s Stinkerbelle, in all her Six-ness, talking non-stop, getting all up in my business at every turn, bored out of her mind. (Okay, not really. Like, AT ALL. She’s got things to do, as the cleaning of the attic play space and her room and the tidying up of ALL THE RIDICULOUS AMOUNT OF TOYS AND GAMES THEREIN have shown us. But she IS six, and therefore is all OMG SO BORED I HAVE NOTHING TO DOOOOOOOOO WHY CAN’T I JUST WATCH TVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV. Or, for a nice change of pace, CAN I PLAY MY GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMME (which, for the uninitiated, is Disney Infinity.)
She continues to attend her Occupational Therapy and Speech Therapy sessions this summer, as well as doing homework, so, you know, she HAS things to do. Just not OMG WHY CAN’T YOU ENTERTAIN ME NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWW.
(Also, as an added irritant, for some unfathomable reason, she’s taken to calling me MAMA. Only pronounced in some odd way like MUM-AH. When she’s not calling me by my given name, which is going to result in a giant nose punch of doom if she keeps it up. Only not really, because as we all know, I am the Queen of the Idle Threat. But still. End of my rope, here, Kid, I MEAN IT DON’T MAKE ME TURN THIS CAR AROUND.)
Did I mention our home renos have stalled? Yeah. So, that happened. Or didn’t.
But soonish, we will have a holiday, wherein I will be able to talk at length with other adults about something other than The Regular Maintenance and Education of That Girl, and relinquish care and control of my kid for reasonable lengths of time, and maybe read a book. Or even sleep in.
INORITE? CRAZY TALK.
We’re counting down on a calendar. Although it is officially to help Stinkerbelle with her numbers and learning how to read a calendar… IT’S REALLY FOR ME.