Monday, April 9, 2012

And I Conspire with Life to Make my Weeks Busy

A few weeks ago, I volunteered with the local organic veggie people to coordinate pickups. That means they bring a smallish semi truck to my house every Monday and drop off a pallet of fruits and veggies, which I then sort out into bags for anywhere from 10 to 22 people.

It seemed like a small thing, and I like to be helpful, but it does fill a day!

And leaves me with aching abs. And exhausted.

Adding to that new thing, last week was spring break for the kids. And the University, where Husband works, has decided to lower the amount of leave the employees can carry over from year to year, so Husband took the week off to use up some of the (now extra) time he's accrued over the last 12 years.

It made my days weird. No pick up and drop-off times for the kids. No 5:something Husband's home dinners to add structure to our days. No gym trips -- or good logical times to go.

So we ran the Warrior Dash in the rain, bagged veggies, cleaned house and car, went to Legoland, sent the kids to the pool with school friends, and decorated and hunted eggs for the pagan easter.

I held the camera.
We need more veggies!
These are all made of Legos.
All of them.
Legos.
I ride a Lego camel.
Boychild drives.
Girlchild shows an affinity for acting.
(The boys had smile-screams; she looks terrified) 
We discovered Everyone Loves Vader.
And Girlchild finds the necessary orange Jack-o-Egg.
And this week we try to get back into our old habits. I started off going to the gym, to see if exercise will help my recent bout of crankiness, and sorting veggies. Remembering to deliver and collect the children. Remembering to remind Girlchild to do her homework.

Good habits are so easily broken.

Tomorrow I try adding writing back into the mix.

2 comments:

  1. Is your hair now bright orange or is that a bandana? A banana bandana?

    ReplyDelete
  2. A bright yellow headband. I decided I want my hair ponytail long again, so it is annoyingly fluffy and in my face right now.

    ReplyDelete