We're leaving in a cramped van...

Image courtesy of Sanja Gjenero, rgbstock.com

This week I have to do something I really, really don't like to do. Unfortunately, I can't avoid it any longer.

I have to pack.

On Sunday we're going on our annual journey back home to visit my parents. I look forward to this trip all year. Growing up, I was the kid who never really wanted to venture far from family, but as it turned out, I'm the one who ended up living the farthest away. So my husband, my kids, our dog, and I have a thousand-mile trip to look forward to, if I can get over one hurdle:

Packing.

I don't like packing. Actually, that's a bit of an understatement. I loathe packing, especially since around here it seems to go hand in hand with cleaning.

Confession: I am not Monica Geller.



During the time we're gone, our next-door neighbor will be going into our house every day to check on our cat, and, since I don't want her to think I'm a complete slob, I need to make sure the house is clean before we go. My husband thinks I'm being ridiculous, but I think most women can probably understand where I'm coming from. Also, it's nice to come home to a clean house, isn't it? It's just too bad I have to clean it first in order to get it that way.

So this week will be filled with laundry and folding and packing and finding toys and buying last-minute items and explaining to the kids why they can't take their gigantic dollhouse and big yellow dump truck with us and late nights and exhaustion and looking through the suitcases for things I packed too soon and last-minute laundry and take-out pizza and arguments about what counts as a necessity and trips to the grocery store for snacks and cleaning and more cleaning and moments where I pull my hair out and...

You get the picture. I'm sure you've all been here before.

And since you have, do you have any tips for me? Any stories? Any ways to help me procrastinate?

Because have I mentioned? I really, really don't like to pack.


Happy Monday, friends!

In the game again

It's true what they say about vacations: you need one to recuperate from the one you just took. Ever since we arrived home late Saturday night, I've been unpacking, doing laundry, cleaning, and taking the kids to appointments and storytime. Yesterday I even managed to catch up on some of my writing. (Yay!) I've been busy.

And I am exhausted.

Returning home from vacation is always difficult for me. If I could, I would move back to Michigan, back to my small town with its small-town way of life. I don't dislike living in a large city--I certainly appreciate all of the opportunities living here presents to me and my family--but I miss the atmosphere of a smaller town and the sense of community and belonging that usually goes along with it.

And then there's my family. We've always been close, and it's hard to be away from them, especially when I know I can see them only once a year. I wrote a 100-words entry about this shortly after arriving back home:

I've been back in New York for only two days, yet I'm already homesick. Although I can think of many good things about living in a large city, I still miss the small town I grew up in. Mostly, though, I miss my family. Neither my husband nor I have relatives close by, and that's really a lonely feeling. I'm not the type of person who has a large circle of friends, and even though I've made one close friend since moving here--a friend I would miss so much if she weren't in my life--the loneliness doesn't subside.

But enough of the sad stuff. What I'm happy about is being back here, blogging and interacting with my online friends! It was hard to be away for so long, and I'm very glad to be back to the world of writing.

So what's up next for me and my blog? More writing and more writing about writing--just more of doing what I love.

And I can't wait.

My kids are playing in the living room, and all is right in my world

I tweeted this earlier today:

The kids are pretending to give each other baths in the doll's bathtub. I love just to sit and listen to them!

I've been trying to clean the house today because my mother-in-law and sister-in-law will be visiting this weekend, so the kids have been playing on their own. Listening to them play together and talk to each other warms my heart, and I often stop whatever I'm doing--washing dishes, folding clothes, scrubbing crayon marks off the walls--and eavesdrop on them. If I have the camcorder handy, sometimes I'll lurk around the corner and try to record them before they notice me and stop doing whatever cute thing they happen to be doing. Other times, like today, I'll take pictures of my son "washing" my daughter's hair as she sits in a white plastic tub that is way too small for even her tiny, 22-month-old bottom.

These moments--these small moments of everyday life--are so precious. They are the moments that make me glad I'm a mother, glad that I've been given such a huge and awesome responsibility. Despite the many times when the scene isn't quite as  idyllic--when someone is screaming and someone else is crying for a diaper  change--I love my job. I love my life. My family is everything. And even though there are still so many things I want for myself in life--to be a published author is just one--my children are more important right now. They need me, and I'm learning every day just how much I need them too.

Is it weird that I want to pat myself on the back?

I am horrible about throwing things away, especially if they have sentimental value. As a result, the four of us live in a very cluttered house. I've tried many times to declutter, but I get overwhelmed by the number of boxes and piles of stuff we have, and trying to decide what to keep and what to get rid of is difficult for me. However, today I want to pat myself on the back because, although I've only been a Flybaby for four days, I've slowly been making a dent in my clutter, and I finally feel hopeful about getting this house in order. Every week we clean one zone--this week is the kitchen--and I find it so comforting to know that as I scrub my counters or clean out my refrigerator, people all over are doing the same thing. As silly as it probably sounds, I don't feel so alone anymore, and that in itself helps so much.

In addition to making headway on the cleaning, last night I made some progress with my novel. Yesterday was what Flylady calls Anti-Procrastination Day, and she advises everyone to do whatever it is that he or she has been putting off. For me, it was my novel, although I haven't been putting it off so much as I've been putting it last each day. Yesterday I actually gave it priority, and I logged into my favorite writing chat room and got some words down, so I'm really happy about that.

I'm feeling pretty good right now on the progress I've made on the house and on my writing, and I'm hoping I can keep up my enthusiasm and momentum.

Waiter, I need more coffee here

I need to start getting more sleep; these five-hour nights are killing me. If someone could please tell me how to fit a full day of mothering and writing and cleaning and errand-running and wife-ing and reading into fewer than nineteen hours, I would be most appreciative. Thank you.

Ugh. I've got to get more sleep.