Digging a trench just for kicks.

10 days to the big move. And what did I do today? Thank you notes. I h.a.t.e. writing thank yous. Not that I’m ungrateful. I’m actually overwhelmed. Nothing that I write seems adequate. I finished the generic thank yous a time ago and I have about 10 personal notes to finish yet. Do you think if I run out of bananas that the monkey on my back will just go away? I didn’t think so.I still don’t have anything packed. My dad told me today to find a spot and start digging. Thanks. When was the last time you dug yourself a trench just for kicks? My parents (and ILs) aren’t all that willing to help although my mother may come for few days next week just to criticize how many towels I have (probably too many) and question every kitchen utensil in the drawer. But she’s great on the other end, unpacking and finding the logical place for everything.

This is focused and busy week. The first in a while. I don’t sit down alot during the day but when I do, Ella climbs into my lap and says “I’m just a little bit sad mommy…” She assumes a nursing position (she hasn’t nursed since she was 20 months or so). I’ve noticed that she does it just as I’m about to ask her to do something like find her shoes or pick up toys. Manipulation? Or is she really sad? She probably has the words to express how she’s really feeling but she’s really smart too and picks up my change in behavior when she says she’s sad. It’s not like I ho-hum around here all day long. I have things to do. Maybe that’s the problem, yes? She wants me to be right there all day? Who knows. I don’t know what’s normal 3 year old and what’s the product of everything that has happened to us.

So I guess I really am moving. Today I called the phone company, the newspaper and my insurance company. My bed was delivered and I bought a mattress pad. I’ve arranged for some strong backs to move furniture. I still have to buy some totes and some packing tape. I have to lay the carpet piece in my new basement and see if there is enough power down there to make it livable (toy room style). I need to stop by the bank and close our joint checking account and open my own and give them my new address. I’m tired.

I paid out the nose, I’ll have you know, for my children being in bed so early last night. Ella was up at 5:30 this morning. Eek. I got her a juice, granola bar and parked her in front of Disney Channel in my room and went back to sleep. Amelia was awake an hour later. Start the day before dawn! Neat. Maybe next time I won’t be so eager to turn the lights out. I couldn’t sleep last night (the insomnia is returning…why?) so I lay in bed next to Amelia with my ipod listening to the podcast of “Prairie Home Companion”. Something about Garrison Keillor’s voice is so comforting to me. It’s probably my upper-midwestern, Lutheran upbringing. He reminds me of any one of my uncles. But still no sleeping.

I have bad things burned into the undersides of my eyelids. Things that I only see when I’m trying to sleep. What do you see when you close your eyes? Is it the same image? Is it in color? Does it flash around or does one thing melt into another? This is rhetorical of course. I don’t expect anyone to respond because I can only assume that everyone is different just like everyone dreams differently. But I have images that I can’t escape. Flashbulb moments of time where I was outside of myself. Where I must have been watching a movie or reading a book because surely, that wasn’t me. Where was I?

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