A Life of Distraction

We had three of the grandchildren here for the weekend -- seven-year old Annabelle and three-year-old twins Addison and Bennett. Annabelle is the quintessential, curious firstborn, where all the rules are black and white, and everything's a party. Her Mama says that A often bemoans the fact that they are eating "alone" -- just because it's only the five of them. She never stops talking and is eager for the next social encounter, whatever kind that might be. Addison is an adorable ginger-haired sassy gal, hamming it up at every turn. She might just be smarter than us. Bennett regales in his boy-ness, enjoying nothing better than aggravating his sisters with his latest weapon from his arsenal. But then he is the snuggliest of sugar bears. We had a ball with them.

When it came to Sunday night and they went home to their parents, Ken turned to me and said, "How did we ever do all that?!" It might have had something to do with being 25 years younger and the fact that they don't come in litters. You start out with one at a time (usually) and work up from there. It's been a long time since we've had three at once. But I was definitely stunned by the amount of food, drink and diapers that it takes to keep the world turning. And with twins, they do all those things, all at the same time. Including getting into trouble. 

My takeaway from the weekend, besides the fact that having grandchildren is the most wonderful thing ever, is that I simply have to get my house under control. Everywhere you look, there's boxes of junk, piles of things I have no idea what to do with, projects half-finished and reams of random papers growing on every horizontal surface. The problem with a creative brain is that it likes to hop around. Ken says I'm a tent dweller and it's true. More than a day or two on an activity and I'm ready for the next wind to come along. I'm a great starter and he's a great finisher. But he doesn't want to mess with my particular projects, so he becomes the cattle prod to my wayward ways. It's a miracle we haven't killed each other. 

So where to begin? Everywhere I look are meaningful piles and undiscovered adventures, all waiting to be plumbed. My brain is a bit fuzzy and in the middle of it all, I still have to work at my day job. Who's got time to divert that much?! I've spent enough money on organization books to choke a horse, and nobody wants to call the maid (she's an amazing figment of my imagination). I've had numerous offers from folks to help me, but I might be too proud to take them up on it. 

We're going camping in a couple of weeks, but I need to paint all the doors I've taken off and find some baskets to put all our supplies in. Then somebody needs to call the cavalry in and have them reupholster all those dining room chairs I took apart last week. There's nowhere to eat around here except the recliners. And you know what happens when you plop down in one of those. The glowing light calls your name as you eat your supper. The joints settle in and then you'll find Pa and I sawing logs through yet another episode of Silent Witness. Marie Kondo, I'm going to burn your books...