Daddy Long Legs
The feeling is something akin to Panic, but without the painful zap of fear. Not quite Manic because I'm moving slow and steady, but barely getting enough done. What my head is sharing with those rabid states is the distortion of what needs to be done NOW - it's like a funhouse mirror where the fact that the cleaning lady threw out a bag of old hangers that I was going to return to the dry cleaners takes up an inordinate amount of space in my brain while the pesky little realization that there is an entire half of a basement to move out of the way of the heating/cooling people is only a tiny toe at the bottom of the bulbous body of worry about the preschool newsletter.
Saturday's photo session will be right in the middle of our last minute shuffling of beds and bureaus and boxes. When I booked the family portrait a few weeks ago, the woman on the phone telling me that she would be charging my credit card with the entire sitting fee THAT VERY DAY disquieted me only a bit less than her "you could wear some jeans or chinos." I do not like Jeansor Chinos on my body; I do not own any and her casual comment sent me reeling into irrational thought tangles of the kind of manicured, high-lighted content mother that the camera will be looking for and failing to find.
I've earned myself a little talking-too.
My car is filled with the nasty-sweet smell of new paint off-gassing - My car is fixed!
We're going to be living out of suitcases for the next six weeks - We have safe and comfortable places to stay!
The children won't be going to school very much til the new year - We will be exploring new places and learning new things!
I'm running out of pouts...