Piles

Sometimes it feels as though my life is a series of piles. Piles seem to be taking over my life. Piles of laundry, piles of toys, piles of school work, piles of books, piles of mail, piles of dirt, piles of diapers, piles of poop (you know I had to say it), piles of dishes, piles of crayons, piles of leaves, piles of children...

Jimmy has begun a cleaning business which makes him gone all day at school and then gone again in the evenings, making me the sole caretaker of the kids for many hours of the day. I try to keep things simple around here, and play games with my mind, like, pretending Super Nanny is video taping me so that I don't lose my cool or let the children get away with anything. Or that the President is coming over so that I actually make something that resembles dinner. The other day I was outside making a pile of weeds and vines and my sister called. I let the kids go inside and I stayed on the front porch, to have some peace to talk to her, and when I hung up and came inside I was greeted by a pile in the living room. It was the contents of my pantry, in a pile on the floor. Libby and Cash were the culprits. I made them pick it all up, of course. But as soon as one pile is decimated it seems another one forms somewhere else in my house (or mind).

Last week I had just finished nursing Penelope and rocked her for a bit, trying to take a little break because I was feeling pretty tired and overwhelmed just at the task of having to get up and make everyone lunch and I had a flashback to an interview I saw on some random trashy talk show back when I was a teenager. It was a mother who had a bunch of kids and was still nursing her son who was like ten years old or something crazy like that. She would just lie on the floor and her kids would line up and take turns at the breast. I of course was horrified (that was the point) and ogled at her craziness. But sitting there, in my chair, feeling tired, I looked down at the floor and sort of understood her plight. I thought, if I could just lie down there, doing nothing, getting a little nap, and just by lifting my shirt up, nourish my kids all at the same time, I probably would. I can't blame her for saving energy, dishes, groceries, and time all at once. Well, I better add this to my pile of blogs, hope I don't regret it later (I often do) and get back to my pile of demands I'm putting off. Jackson keeps saying, "can I please read your postage?" Sure Jackson, just don't get any ideas. Let's not pile on top of mommy or anything, I'm not ready for Super Nanny to see that one.