image credit: www.claymoreslinger.com/medeival_art
It's 10AM. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, the coffee is strong.
So why do I feel defeated already?
From my perch on the couch, I see mayhem.
A quick survey of my to-do list: more mayhem.
An inventory of my brain: piles of mayhem.
The garage: mayhem.
The garden: mayhem. This is serious mayhem, since it will need to be transformed into a native paradise in about three weeks time if we are to avoid the curse of the busman's holiday at our annual garden tour show on May 1st.
Mayhem seems like such an innocent little word. It's kind of cute, in a way. Like "mother may I" and a polite "ahem" are rolled up into one.
But mayhem has a dark side. Mayhem is pinning me down on the couch, whispering menacing thoughts in my ear (you'll never make it), and drilling a little hole in my left heel, from whence all of my energy is draining.
* * *
We overslept this morning, me and my homeschooled children. So at 9:45, they are asking me what's for breakfast, and I am too busy bickering with nascent cramps to answer them. The youngest has a nasty cough and is home from preschool today, which means she will be spreading her special brand of terrorism far and wide. The boys' carpentry class ended last week, so I have no reason to get the kids out of the house.
* * *
I have an image in my head today of me, arrayed in full body armor, battling demons. Demon #1 would be those cramps, which are maturing every minute and are not so nascent anymore. Demon #2 is a serious lack of motivation, daunted as I am by the mountain of work before me. And a little daunted by the mouse my son saw in the garage yesterday, meaning I have to have Fun With Traps today at some point. Demon #3 is the chaos that surrounds me. This demon has multiple arms and legs, and just when I beat him down in one part of the house or garden, I turn a corner and get bitch-slapped again.
* * *
What is the proper way to battle chaos and disorder? With little time, few resources, and far too many demands upon both?
* * *
And did I mention that I gave up yelling for Lent? That was a folly of the highest degree. I do not recommend this for mothers. It's similar to when I gave up coffee for Lent many years ago, and vowed on a bright and sunny Easter morning never, ever to do that again. Giving up yelling has been well nigh impossible.
But attempting to give up yelling has at least focused me each day on the attempt itself. Each day is a renewed chance to not yell. I have decided that less yelling counts as some measure of success, so at least I have that.
* * *
I am rambling. Writing this post has been all about delaying the inevitable: dealing with my day. Better bring it to a close. I will refill my coffee cup, step out into the bright sunshine, and battle my demons.
I just need to find my helmet underneath all the mayhem first.
* * *