They haven't slept since December. Neither have I.
My house also refuses to clean itself, the laundry is breeding like rabbits, and there's this strange smell wafting from the drain my bathroom sink. I have no idea.
My sweet husband has been called as the Second Counselor in the Bishopric of our ward. If you don't know what that means, just know that I no longer have a husband a few nights a week. But I'm totally okay with it. In fact, there's something about knowing he's doing the Lord's work, hard work, that gives me happy tingles. Something very fulfilling for me, even though I'm only at home sucking down my second Coke and watching a Criminal Mind marathon instead of dealing with my frisky laundry.
The last few weeks have been hectic. I give a virtual high five to all the mothers out there who work full time, and then go home to work full time. It's tough stuff, tough stuff. Both of my older kids are sick, and they haven't been sick-sick in about 3 years. Nasty coughs. Ookey green goop creeping out of their noses. I had to give them cough medicine for the first time tonight. Then I downed the rest of the bottle for myself.
Kidding, only kidding.
It's been tumultuous*, to say the least. An emotional roller coaster that's turned me green and given me a continuous nausea feeling in the pit of my stomach. I have a stressful job, and work with people who are the salt of the earth, and just don't know it. I feel like I'm there for a reason, and it's not monetary. I just don't know how to latch on to that reason and run with it. I feel lost in my callings in life, as a wife and mother and employee and daughter and sister and daughter-in-law and sex goddess. It's hard to juggle it all, but it gets easier every day. Let's just say we're all lucky if I remember to shower that week...
So, because of family tragedies, working full time, sleeping 20 hours a week, losing my husband to a good cause and resolving to blow my house up with a few sticks of dynamite, I haven't blogged. For my two readers out there, I apologize.
Love you both,
P.S. Chloe is turning out to be the cutest baby in the entire history of the world, ever. Anywhere.
*My Senior year in HS, my AP History class and I decided to use that word in the first paragraph on one of our essays for our final exam (we're rebels, I know). Turns out I was the only one who did it. Traitors.