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Not only that, but I am trying to be cheerful and chipper for when my husband comes home. I want to be sure that home is a welcome place for him to be and come to at the end of the day. That is really hard when at around 5pm I am trying to get dinner on so that my husband can have a hot meal to eat, have a hungry, cranky, tired toddler who is clinging to me, asking to watch, needing help with something or just whining and try to have a wonderful welcome for my husband. What I'd like to have happen, this would be my ideal homecoming for hubby. Nadia is sitting on the floor, coloring, smiling brightly as her father walks through the door. My hair is neatly up swept in a cute bun and I am wearing just a touch of lipstick and makeup. Supper is just about done, which, by the way, has been wafting out the open window enticing my husband to come in. Then as he walks through the door, I meet him with a kiss, a cold glass of water and I proceed to take off his shoes for him. Meanwhile Nadia nicely says "papa!" runs over waiting for him to pick her up. That would be my ideal. Here is what really happens. Nadia is right at my feet, arms outstretched, whining, begging to watch or something. There is stuff (read: toys) strewn about all over the kitchen floor. The table is not made, I have not even lip balm on, let alone makeup. My hair is up swept alright, but with in a messy something-or-other with a wooden stick through it. Supper is no where near being done, but it does smell nice. Hubby walks through the door and Nadia launches herself towards him, throwing herself at him, hollering 'UP UP UP'. I greet hubby with an exasperated, audible sigh and a grimace. To which he says 'that bad?' He peels Nadia from his leg to sit and take off his shoes. Then, maybe then, I hand him cool tap water.
I suppose it's not all that bad. I mean it could be worse, I could be watching soaps or something and suppers in the freezer. I guess I'm not all that bad. But still I think things could be better and I want them to be. However, until we get settled again in a new house, it's going to be ruckus.
Which I don't know why I called this organized chaos. I am an organized person, but this whole process of packing, moving and getting gone is anything but organized. Chaotic? Yes. Very.
Well I'd better stop flabberjawin' and getting to packing.
Ol Dan Tucker was a fine ol man
Washed his face in a fryin pan
Combed his hair with a wagon wheel
Died with a toothache in his heel
Get outta the way for ol dan tucker
he's too late to get his supper...