I guess I’m in the doldrums.  A post-vacation slump, if you will, fueled by terrible sleep (my daughter’s sleep cycle has been disrupted) and a lack of focus.  Since May, I’ve been rushing forward to meet one goal or another.  First, we were frantic in our attempts to finish the school-at-home work.

Then school ended, and I had three weeks to pull together Fiesta! Vacation Bible School.  That ended and we launched into our week of Vacation Without Leaving Home, which was fun, but oh-so-exhausting.

The following week found us relaxing (as much as one can with four children) at the lake for almost a week.  We were home a few days and then I fled south to Portland for a few days of Mom’s Time Out.

And now I’m back, trying to find a rhythm for the days.  I have no major demands, no immediate goals and I’m floundering a little.

Mostly, I spend my time (when not attempting to catch up on my blog-reading!) puttering around, dealing with little piles of stuff, decluttering, moving, washing, fixing.  I feel like a bear about to go into hibernation who is fixated on preparations for the long, dark winter without being clear on what exactly is going on.  I need to have my closets clean, my baskets of magazines and papers sorted, my files purged, children’s clothing sorted and organized and updated. 

I do have help in these desires.  I have a new washing machine and dryer.  We hired a guy to power-wash and paint the outside of the house, plus the deck and playhouse.  We’ve having a landscape company fix the backyard, including leveling out some areas and putting down playground mulch.  The other day, a team of three men replaced my thirty-year old broken-down, scratched patio door with a new one in under forty-five minutes. 

(Can I just note that it kills me to pay someone to do something I feel capable of doing myself, if only I had the time?)

I’m still feeling a little overwhelmed and lethargic and pointless.

This, too, shall pass.  Meanwhile, summer’s rushing to a close and the moon hangs in the sky like a glowing bowling ball and mortality brings me no joy.

(Right-click and open in a new window for best viewing.)

First, we rode the ferry to Seattle.  See the city in the distance?

I am holding Her Royal Shyness.  That’s her brother’s arm.

Seattle seagull snatching snack.

The Space Needle.

Taking photographs on the Space Needle.

Posing by the 1,000 year old twin Douglas firs on Mt. Rainier.

Serenity now.

Running from ocean waves.

Jumping in the lake.

This concludes our whirlwind tour of Summer Vacation 2006 (with apologies to those on dial-up internet connections.)

I was minding my own business, reading a blog, waiting for Spongebob to end so I can toss my daughter into her bed when the noise coming from my boys’ room (which shall forthwith be known as the Boy Cave) became so intolerable that I popped up, strode to the door in a single bound and threw open the door. 

I announced, “THAT IS ENOUGH!  STOP!  STOP!  STOP!  IF YOU MAKE THAT NOISE ONE . . . MORE . . . TIME, YOU WILL SPEND THE REST OF THE NIGHT IN YOUR ROOM!” 

I thought I saw a teenage smirk, so I continued, “AND YOU!  YOU!  WHOEVER MAKES HIM MAKE THAT NOISE AGAIN WILL SPEND THE REST OF THE NIGHT ON HIS BED!”

Then, with a dramatic flourish of my hands, I concluded, “I CANNOT TAKE ONE MORE SECOND OF THAT NOISE!  SO STOP!  JUST STOP!”  I believe that my eyes rolled back into my head and my head exploded as if it were full of microwave popcorn in full pop.  

And then I wheeled around, slammed the door and resumed my rightful spot at my computer desk.

So far, no more noise from the Boy Cave.  Someone get me some ear plugs.  And a scalpel to sever the nerves to my eardrums.

So, the first night of my Mom’s Time Out Extravaganza, I wrote an amusing and clever post which refused my order to “publish.”  And then *poof* it was gone.  (See, I can say how clever and amusing it was because it’s clearly never going to materialize, despite the wonders of the World Wide Web.  Ha.)  (I did manage to update my other blog, The Amazing Shrinking Mom, however.

I’m home now and I even came home early, a whole three hours early, because I missed my kids.  My daughter was delighted to see me and jumped into my arms as if I’d been gone for years.  Then she asked what I brought her . . . and after each thing, she’d say, “What else did you brought me?” 

As part of my adventure, I met two bloggers, both named Tammy.  One blogs at Dishpan Dribble and one blogs at Lavendar Knits.  (Left to right:  Tammy of Lavendar Knits, Tammy of Dishpan Dribble, and me.  Right-click and open in a new window for best viewing.) We had such a yummy dinner and enjoyable conversation.  (I have a picture, too, but the camera’s in the car still and I find myself too lazy to go get it tonight.)  I appreciated the fact that they each drove into Portland and braved the Lloyd Center to meet me for dinner.  (Once, fifteen years ago or so, when I lived in Portland, a woman was killed–randomly–at the Lloyd Center parking garage.) 

The following day, I met two women I’ve known through an AOL pregnancy message board since I was pregnant with my almost-4 year old daughter.  Tina (who doesn’t have a current blog, alas!) and JulieAnne (her blog is Home Jewels) met me at Red Robin for lunch.  After knowing them through the computer for all these years, meeting them face to face and chatting was a great joy and pleasure.  (Left to right:  JulieAnne, me and Tina.)

I hated to part, but the thrift stores were calling my name!  And they had to get back to their families.

I visited four or five thrift stores yesterday afternoon.  (Bargains!)  Last night, I went to a movie (You, Me and Dupree) which was quite possibly the most boring and stupid movie I’ve seen this year.  I almost walked out half-way through.

This morning, I went to Value Village (again) and then to Powell’s City of Books in downtown Portland.  The planets were aligned just right and I was able to park mere steps from the front door.  I (foolishly) didn’t pick up a basket for my books and ended up clutching a precarious armful of books.  I bought a bunch of books for my boys and also some Madeleine L’Engle for myself.  (And some other books, too.)  I could live in that bookstore forever. 

Then, I steered the car back onto I-5 going north and soon, I’d left Oregon.  I stopped at one more thrift store and then an outlet store, and then, home again, home again, jiggety jog.  Time sure flies when you aren’t wiping bottoms and fixing snacks and stepping on Legos. 

Tomorrow, life returns to semi-normal, except that I still don’t have a hooked-up washer and dryer.  But, the gallivanting has come to an end and we’ll revert to being the homebodies that we are, deep down inside.

It’s good to be home.