Saturday, May 30, 2009


It's been the sort of week where I can hardly string three words together.
The physiological changes that make it possible for an interesting adult to focus all her faculties on keeping her small children alive seem to have gone into overdrive.
Or maybe I'm just driven to distraction by the way Sir O nearly killed his brother multiple times this week.
"Don't touch your brother"
"Don't touch his face"
"Don't put anything in his mouth"

Those are the only coherent things I've said in days. And I must have said them ten thousand times in the last three days. And what does Sir O do? He tries to cram his toy yield-sign down his brother's throat. (Because it looked like it might fit?)

I now know what it means to be driven to distraction. Such a cute little phrase.
But it's real people, it's real.

I live in a permanent state of distraction.
Worth it? Yes.
But unpleasant, undesirable, maddening, irritating, and depressing as well.

I can't finish anything I start, from the dishes to this post, without being distracted, usually by an interruption 3 feet or under.
My brain has almost forgotten how to get anything accomplished.
And I used to base so much of my self esteem on what I could accomplish.
Mr Renn has been hollering for me that last dozen lines or so.
Maybe some of my interruptions are a little taller....

1 comment:

hairyshoefairy said...

*sigh* I so know. Peanut hasn't really attempted shoving toys in Wingnut's mouth but she frequently tries to cram his binkie down his throat and this afternoon even tried to force him to suck his thumb. I especially love when he's happily sucking on his binkie, almost asleep, and she comes and rips the thing out of his mouth for some unknown reason. What is with these kids? My house feels like it's in constant shambles because of all the distractions but I know somehow we'll make it.

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