What happens when Mom suffers a blow to the head?

The kids eat boxed macaroni and cheese, cupcakes, and/or ice cream for dinner.

The laundry remains unfolded.

The oldest son asks you to get an x-ray every time you touch your gigantic goose egg.

And you, as the mom, are kind of spacey and cranky all day.

For my readers who want the gory details, I will spill. Colby has recently started throwing things down the second-floor balcony to the first floor below. It is hilarious.

(According to him.)

I was down below this morning, sorting laundry, while Mr. C was playing with his Geo-Trax train upstairs. I had a little flash when I thought, “It would really bite if he chucked something off there and it hit me.”

(Don’t ignore those little flashes. They might save you a whopper of a headache.)

Less than a minute later, the Geo-Trax engine clocked me in the head hard enough to bring me to my knees.

(Colby laughed. He didn’t see it hit me, he just heard it hit the floor.)

If this post makes absolutely no sense, please call me and make me go to the doctor.

“Finish him!”

As I was thinking about the new year and what I wanted to accomplish, I decided that 2012 is going to be The Year of Finishing Things. My book, for one. The two tables and four chairs in my garage for another. De-cluttering my entire house. And a few more personal items, as well.

See, when I went to my writers retreat back in November, a friend asked me what I was working on. I told her (and it’s the same thing I was working on last year) and she said, “You’ll do it. You are an accomplisher.”

Accomplisher? She obviously hasn’t seen the pink walls in my son’s room.

I’ve thought about that a lot. (About what she said, not the pink walls. Although, I’ve thought about them a lot, too). I don’t know if it’s actually true. I want it to be true, though. I want it enough that my goal for this entire year is to finish things. My house is littered with half-baked ideas and partly-done projects and big plans. I’m a wonderful starter, but I don’t always finish things like I should.

What I need is a coach. A hard-nosed, show-no-mercy coach that will tell me to sweep the leg on those projects and finish them!

(Here’s where I found the shirt, in case you want to buy one.)

Okay, not really. That guy, he’s super freaky. Actually, the type of coach I need is a Mr. Miyagi. I need to build the habits of finishing (waxing, sanding, painting–wait, some of that is really true) in order to come out accomplisher.

I’m starting small. Writing every day. Setting deadlines, and actually putting them on the calendar. We’ll see how my accomplishing muscles are growing in a few weeks. I’ve already got five organized drawers, two clean cupboards, and over 4,000 new words on my manuscript to show for it.

Now please excuse me while I go work on my secret weapon: the crane.

The Blessing of a Snow Day and the Curse of a Snow Week

On our first snow day, it was like summer–only with snow!

We slept in late, then went outside to play.

Despite cold noses and red cheeks, we enjoyed snowball fights,

finding and uncovering (then re-covering) the drains,

and making snow angels in the middle of the street.

The next day, while we were excited to be out of school, we were sad trees that used to be upright were now lying down on the ground.

All the trees were covered with about an inch of ice.

The power had been out since early that morning, which necessitated a lot of barking on my part. (“Close the door! You’re letting out the heat!” “Close the fridge! You’re letting out the cold!”)

Though it looks amazingly beautiful, it is also amazingly destructive.

Trees and branches were down all over town. The sight of fresh scars marking tree after tree was sad and frightening. My car was also completely encased in ice, but I hadn’t wanted to drive anywhere. Too many big trees line the roads.

This is my house. Notice the trees behind it. I shiver now a little bit just remembering. I’ve read books before about the way trees breaking sounds like a gunshot. I (oh so thankfully) didn’t hear any cracks from those giants behind my home, but every crash as snow was displaced made me a bit jumpy.

The kids stayed in and we hunkered down, enjoying hot water and the fireplace, as well as candles. (In my opinion, the candles were enjoyed a little too much by my children, as is evidenced by the plate covered in wax, which happened while the kids were “helping” keep the candles lit.)

Our power was restored after another half day.

I’m so grateful for warmth! I’m so grateful for ovens to make food hot! I’m so grateful for friends who checked up on me and brought me hot food, despite the treacherous conditions.

The temperature has finally warmed up enough that most of the snow has melted, but there are still people without power. In fact, church today has been moved to a different building because ours is still powerless.

Unfortunately for me, they still want me to speak. You can’t win ‘em all.

Fingers crossed for school to be in session tomorrow. We’ve just about run out of things to do and are ready to turn on each other like a pack of wolves, but I trust it won’t go that far.

Hopefully.