Behind, far behind. I haven't yet began to form a routine for our new house. Something I'm sure to do with the boxes beckoning from all sorts of places and birthdays and holidays and pregnancy and three-year-olds. I realized how very off I was when visiting with another mom at the library today. She was talking about how overwhelmed she gets with art/craft projects her son makes and insists on keeping. We have played with play dough once since moving. Another mom asked if we were settled. I just commented that we are to the point that I only look in the boxes if we need something. But with boxes milling about the basement, standing guard over the paths somewhat like the troll in the Billy Goats Gruff, I can't seem to create the relaxed, we-know-what-happens-next (and who does it) rhythm I dream of.
There is some part of planning involved. Some part of discipline necessary with following that plan. Something deliberate in going about the day. Today though, I just want one thing:
All of our laundry--done. I want to wake up tomorrow with all loads of laundry finished. No dirty clothes greeting me from the floor of the bathroom, or scattered about Abigail's room (She has a basket, but reallocates it for other things like buttons, dried beans, drums or a hat), or from the basket in our room. I don't want to wish for clothes I know I have but wonder where they are in the cleaning process. All will be clean.
I hear the dryer beeping telling me that another load is done. Off to folding I go!
Note: I do realize that the act of putting our pajamas on creates laundry. There is no need to remind me. Laundry taunts me!