I like projects. We have a lot to do in this house. Hubby insists on doing it all himself. Considering he has about 50% of his weekends free from work, and he likes his down time as well, that puts projects on about a 75% slower pace than average. And in twynmawrmom time, that's about 150% slower than average.
I have already had to give up so many expectations on what we could accomplish in year one, year two...now we are in year three. A lot has gotten done, but as any homeowner knows, there is still so much more to be done.
I have learned to spackel, sand, dig, and drill my way through as much as I can. And I can certainly sew and shop. But I'm always being thwarted by the kids. If I let them watch a movie or wait til hubby is here to help keep tabs on them, it always results in them creating some other kind of calamity for me to clean up later.
So what is the effin point?!? I can't get very far, always need his approval or instruction before continuing, and always have to clean up some mishap as a result.
For instance, the styrofoam block the kids tore apart in the garage yesterday while I was trying to watch Ironman and hubby was putting together some cabinets. I knew they were doing it, and I said I'd clean it up after Ironman. Well...that is a long race... and it ended at 10 pm, so I had to start my day with it rather than the basement. And while hubby was mowing the lawn, little boy came in, having peed his clothes. Then they both wanted lunch. And so begins the cycle again: of attempting to accomplish something and having to stop and start again and trying to remember where you were and how to proceed without having a second to collect your thoughts.
And don't say preschool because it lasts about an hour and I try. These are day-long projects and are hard to stop and start in an hour, so I try to preserve my sanity during that hour by either sewing or working out.
I have to give up my expectations for the weekend. I have to take off my painting clothes, put on my jeans, and go outside and push them on the swing. Same as every day. I'm stuck in GroundHog Day. Weekends do not exist. I have to be thankful I have a swing, kids to push, and the ability to push them.
He just better not talk to me for the rest of the day. I don't know why this is all his fault, but somehow, it is.