Ring Around the Rosie

I have been thinking a lot lately about my role as the mama and the wife.  It is no secret that when the "going gets tough"  I get down (not in the groovy sense).  I completely shut down and lock myself inside my head with my pessimistic thoughts and throw away the key.  A kitchen full of dirty dishes and a sticky floor is enough to send me straight back to bed with two toddlers body slamming me and begging for an adventure.  Laundry is absolutely haunting.  Everywhere I turn there is something that is begging to be lugged down to my basement and don't get me started on the basement. Throw in a few weeks of throwup and diareah and well I am done. 

I am sure that I need a system.  There is no doubt in my mind that my household and life screams ORGANIZATION!  I am not unfamiliar with how to organize and prioritize.  That is not the problem.  The problem is that I am locked up in my head like Rapunzel without the key or the hair.  My determination and desperation has to kick in in order for me to get out.

Sometimes all it takes is a new beauty product to get me out of bed in the morning. The thought of new eyeliner or a fresh tube of mascara can carry me right through a morning.  Other times it is something as simple as the sound of the garage door opening and a little voice saying "come on Wydia, come on Wydia" to get me moving before my chicklets escape into the cold 7 a.m. air.  Always a simple game of Ring around the Rosie can make everything seem glorious.

I have decided today that I am just about organized and motivated as I have decided to be.  That seems to be good enough for the people I love.  I am grateful beyond measure.

Homebody

When you leave for vacation do you feel the need to pack the entire house so you can have all the comforts of home?  Do you feel the need to clean your house top to bottom before you can even think about packing?  Maybe you are the type that just waits until the last minute and throws together a bag of the essentials and charges head on into an adventure.  Not me.

I have travel anxiety.  I won't waste time blaming it on my parents or childhood, but I have my suspicions where this may have developed.  I have traveled a little bit, once over the pond and once to islands of Hawaii, and my big adventure to Canada as a missionary.  I haven't traveled much since settling down to marry and raise children.  Just a trip across town to Grandmas is enough to cause a mild panic attack. 

I love to stay home.  Yep, a bonified homebody that is me.  Upon closer inspection of my migratory patterns it may seem that I am anything but a homebody.  From age 0-17 I moved 12 times and changed elementary schools three times and junior high twice.  Age 17-21 I moved 5 times and lived with 23 different roommates.  Age 21-23 I dont' really count because it was my mission years.  Ages 23-34 I moved 10 times and lived with 18 different roommates.  That is a grand total of 27 moves and 41 roommates.  I should be a PRO--an absolute interpersonal communication genius.  Instead, I am a homebody with a pathological fear of packing up and traveling. 

Tomorrow I am taking my three kiddos and going on a little 4-day vacation just over 100 miles away sans my husband.  I am not certain which part of that sentence gives me the most anxiety.  Instead of preparing by doing laundry and packing I have cleaned out drawers and closets, loaded my dishwasher twice, and wrote three blog posts. I am thinking about making some cookies.  I have got to get a grip. 

My oldest was following me around this morning asking if he could take this and that.  I found myself getting frustrated with his constant nagging to take more and more toys and things.  Then I realized that this was right up my alley.  He has some travel anxiety as well.  So, he now has a backpack for himself and his brother and sister each packed with all the comforting things in their world.  I am totally fine with that.  I am considering packing one for myself.  Just the thought soothes my soul.