Notes to self.

If this blog were a child, someone should have called CPS by now.

Sorry about that.

In my defense… (sidenote:  What do you say to a stagehand in a suit?  “Will the defendant please rise.”)

In my defense, I had an opera to do.  And a computer with a battery that won’t charge.  And we all had the Hamthrax.  Or at least I think we did.  In hindsight, the girls and I had all the symptoms.  Which spares us from the rest of the booger eaters out there.  The girls were each out of school for a week.  I took my Mucinex (sent straight from heaven) and went to work.  The opera stops for no pandemic.

What else?  I went to Philadelphia for 3 days, also sans computer.  I am still fearful of airport security and I think they would have made me turn on my computer and the battery issue rears its head again. 

I am trying this new thing.  I’m going to bed at a reasonable time.  Ebay is no longer interesting.  I have disconnected myself from all message boards.  Facebook is kind of like brushing my teeth.  Twice a day, every day.  But going to bed “early” after working for real all day means that my house and my blog and my pile of laundry have all suffered.  There just aren’t enough hours.  I’ll get it figured out.  One day. 

Will’s seventh birthday was last week.  Hard to believe that I could be the mom of a seven year old.  My friend’s youngest daughter is one day younger than Will so I get to see him grow up through her eyes.  If that makes any sense.  That little girl will always have a special place in my heart.  And she will probably never know why.

I am in the constant quest for balance.  I’m in the swing of working a little too much.  Parenting too little.  Not sewing at all.  My house is trashed.  Real meals are few (Lucky Charms for supper anyone?).  A stack of mail a foot high. 

But I’m okay.  We’re okay.  And I’ll be around.  You know, unless the Hamthrax strikes.  Again.