I don't function well in a state of chaos.
We are still waiting for the last estimate on our kitchen remodel to come in. I spoke with the man on the phone today, and luckily, he is going to give me a call with it tomorrow. In the meantime, we have been in limbo. We can't install new flooring downstairs until the kitchen cabinetry is installed. We can't unpack any of the kitchen boxes until that's complete, either. We are using a leaky, somewhat shelf-less refrigerator (which I am extremely grateful for) that is in our garage until we finish our kitchen remodel and buy a new one. The cabinets are terrifying, so I am storing the dishes we use on a daily basis in the pantry my father-in-law built for me. All the pantry items are upstairs in the guest room closets. This is not ideal. It works, but it is definitely not ideal.
I thrive in an organized environment.
I am trying to avoid a full-fledged anxiety attack.
Today, Kaden suddenly discovered that there is a giant pile of hazardous objects in the dining room. Up until now, he has seriously left the paint, screwdrivers, etc. alone. Today, I found him pounding fluorescent light bulbs on the floor. Later, he was lugging a caulk gun across the living room rug. While I attempted to prepare dinner, he dumped the socket-wrench set all over the floor. The one with a trillion different pieces that all belong in a specific spot.
I'm pretty sure I screamed, "No, no, no! Don't touch that!" a trillion times today.
I know what you are thinking. "Clean up your house!"
Believe me, I would love nothing more.
Add to the above list the following, and I think it's pretty clear I need to take a purple pill before I go to bed tonight:
Kaden decided a fifteen minute snooze in the car would replace his usual 2-3 hour nap.
I locked us out of the house this morning, and Chad had to come home for an early lunch to let us in.
Kaden decided that using lamps as targets while throwing his shoot ball was a good idea.
I lost track of Kaden's time-outs today at four.
Today is a day that I'm sure Kaden was wishing I was in a classroom somewhere teaching adolescents about the semicolon.
I'm sorry, Little Buddy.
On the agenda this week: Take this kid to the children's museum, so he can spend an entire afternoon without me having to tell him, "You can't touch that!" a single time.