The twins' schedules are shot. They aren't sleeping well, so of course, neither am I. The older kids are running amok because yay! we're at Grandma's! we are freeeeeee! Which is fine until they go cannon balling into the pool and give heart attacks to the old folks doing aqua-aerobics.
"Who smashed these ping-pong balls?" an elderly woman shouted, eying my children suspiciously. "I won't keep buying ping pong balls if PEOPLE SMASH THEM."
I felt guilty even though my kids hadn't been anywhere near the ping-pong table.
I'm ready to go home. But that isn't happening since just today another gas leak was discovered in our new house. That means more delays and another night of the twins sleeping in my mom's closet, our suitcases piled in the bathtub, the kids crashed on the couch. This might go on for another week or (Lord, help us) another month?
I really can't complain, though. Dad makes hot chocolate for the kids before we're awake. Mom is cooking all the dinners, doing laundry and helping me with the twins. This sure beats unpacking boxes. I could get used to this.
But I still miss home.
"Stop thinking worst case scenario," my realtor said. "It will happen."
Yeah. But when?
There's the rub. I am a planner. I like to know when, where and how. But life is rarely that tidy.
"You can't live for tomorrow," Matt told me over the phone. "You have to find a way to be happy today, to live today."
Happiness is a choice, I remind myself as I herd children, pool towels, sandals, and toys around. Two old ladies are watching me like hawks, their stony faces saying they Do Not Like Noise. I muster a smile. They do not smile back.
Oh, well. Maybe tomorrow.