Sometimes Life Is Like A Shovel To The Face

Sorry for the blog silence. This week has been unbelievable, and it's only Tuesday night (as I'm writing this). If I told you everything that had happened, you would think I was telling you the plot of some insane soap opera on steroids.

I have had about four hours of sleep in the past forty-two hours (I'm going to bed as soon as I'm done writing this), and I've spent about fifteen of those dealing with preschool stuff. Yep, the situation at the preschool has exploded for the umpteenth time this year. I've already promised Dave that I am NOT taking on any volunteer work next year with any major responsibility whatsoever. I (and he) need a break!

We're trying to get ready for Mexico (we leave in less than two days --- eeeeeeeee!!!), and also trying to wrap our heads around the fact that tomorrow afternoon our "high" is -17C (1F), and on Friday night we will be in +30C (86F) heat. That's a fifty degree Celsius temperature change people. What? No sweaters? No long pants? No socks? I cannot comprehend that this is even feasible right now.

Monday night I did some late night emergency childcare for a friend who needed to go to the ER. Fortunately she was okay.

And today after school, Sam and Rachel were shoveling snow and Sam got the edge of a metal shovel to the face, specifically his upper lip.

After some consultation with a telephone health service, we were off to the emergency room for potential stitches. Thankfully, by the time we were seen in triage, the swelling in Sam's lip had significantly reduced and his cut looked much better. The triage nurse and I agreed that Sam did not need stitches and we were able to head home. He ate about seven freezies (to continue to alleviate the swelling) and went to bed.

I'm just praying that over the next two days I can get us all packed, can get all the preschool insanity wrapped up, and can form a coherent thought at the end of it all. And, you know, getting some sleep in there would be good too.

Edited to add: I wrote this blog post last night and two minutes ago, I read this article about being a mom. I got more sleep last night (!), but it still made me cry. I too feel the guilt and the pressure of the to-do lists and the "just give me fifteen more minutes to get this done and then those fifteen minutes turn to thirty and then they’re on to something else" scenario. For those of us who are moms, let's all resolve to do one thing each day which makes us happy. Ready, set, go :)