Feast or Famine

It's always one or the other around here. At least this summer, anyway. I either have 3 or 4 children to care for and more activities than I can handle or it's just me and my two children rattling around this house with no reason to get out of our pajamas. Honestly, I handle the former situation much better. I am a gem when it comes to chaos. I have people ask me all the time, "How do you do the summers? How do you do Christmas? How do you feed, bathe and bed all those kids? How do you do all the holiday shopping?" Well, it's a lot of work, but that is where I shine. I'm all about a flurry of activity. I'm all about baking cookies, pillow fights, bubble baths, cooking big meals, late night girl talks and I can find, purchase and wrap the 35 odd Christmas gifts with perfect timing and accuracy. I may be stressed during all this. I may talk about how busy I am. I may even border on obsessive perfection in my expectation of myself. However, I am happy. I am ecstatic. I have purpose. I am doing something that wouldn't get done without me and it feels good. It's a feast of necessity and rising to the occaision. What I don't handle so well is the famine. After the kids are gone, or between their visits this summer, it's all I can do to go a day without crying. I get so sick of being in the house, but I have no where to go. I am not good at creating purpose. Not that I don't have tons to do to my house, but that's not exactly what I mean. I spend the mornings reading, painting, coloring with the kids. We play word games. We do flashcards. We play Hi Ho Cherrio and Chutes and Ladders. The kids do their chores. I inspect and praise their work. I do my chores, although I can't ever seem to get caught up. I am devouring a book a day instead of sleeping. Maybe it's because I have more time to reflect on my shortcomings. Maybe I miss the kids. Maybe I am just spending too much time in my house. Probably, it's a combination of all these things. Whatever it is, I am sinking into a depression and I don't want to go there. Randy wants me to increase my medication, but he doesn't understand that I can't do that. That will only prove that I am failing at something I should be able to do.

Alex is coming today. I can't wait to see her. Of course I will pull it together. I have a whole list of things for us to do. I just wish I wasn't like this. I wish I wasn't so hard on myself. I wish I could cut myself the slack I cut others. Oh well, live and learn. I will keep trying.

A Royal Proclamation

An excerpt from an MSN article on the royal geneology of us all...

"Take King Edward III, who ruled England during the 14th century and had nine children who survived to adulthood. Among his documented descendants are presidents (George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, John Quincy Adams, Zachary Taylor, both Roosevelts), authors (Jane Austen, Lord Byron, Alfred Lord Tennyson, Elizabeth Barrett Browning), generals (Robert E. Lee), scientists (Charles Darwin) and actors (Humphrey Bogart, Audrey Hepburn, Brooke Shields). Some experts estimate that 80 percent of England's present population descends from Edward III."

Why is this interesting? Because Alfred Lord Tennyson is my great, great, great uncle. So, apparently, I am also a descendent of Edward III. Of course, it also means that I am related to virtually all of England. So, actually, if we are all royal, then essentially, none of us are. A nice concept on our country's birthday, don't you think?

Happy Fourth of July to all of you and although I am bleary eyed from staying up late watching the History channel American Revolution specials, I am feeling pretty good on this special day because I LOVE my country and whether it's my late grandfather who commanded a navy ship in World War II, my great times 6 grandfather who fought the British in 1776, or my Cherokee great grandmother, I am proud of my heritage... and whether your family came over on the Mayflower or you are a naturalized citizen, you can be, too.

Oh, and if you're British, well, don't feel bad. We're still family.