I'm sure I'm PMS-ing.
Thought we were done with all THAT, but given the choice between PMS and I'm-going-utterly-insane...gonna opt in on the PMS train.
After almost a week straight of volunteering, it's painfully obvious I'll never do kitchen line work again. While the time spent working along side Wilson parents was invigorating, stimulating to know I'm not the only excessively neurotic parent in the bunch (read: love's the babies) I'm way too old to do something like this on a consistent basis. (which I think is a good thing)
Something my brain hasn't caught up to yet...the fact my body is 43 years old, with an almost 10 year-old son.
Between Cub Scouts, dance twice a week, soccer practice, soccer games, counseling, physical therapy, field trips, pictures, pictures and more pictures, now theres a camping trip which I have no tent for...and all the gasoline we use, my God. I'm so ready for summer I want to cry. Compost and cry.
Once this toe is completely healed, I'm running again.
Being a single parent is hard work, and it gets harder each passing year. (day)
I'm ready to cut the hair, gain 20 lbs in muscle, and call myself Hilda in order to keep up with him.
PMS.
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