I'm Basically A CEO


One. My husband asks me once a day why I seem so scattered. “Why do you do so many things at once?” He wonders. “Why can’t you be more present with us; can’t this wait till later?” He asks.


Two. That is the amount of paper towel rolls we have left in the linen closet. I just went through and cleaned that closet, actually. I condensed our blankets and replaced some crappy beach towels. It’s also been two weeks since I last washed Gabe’s sheets and I need to get on that. That kid picks his nose so much I’m almost afraid to crawl up to his top bunk and see what I’m dealing with.


Three. There are three extra toothpaste tubes in the bottom drawer of the bathroom. I keep meaning to put more child locks on the drawers because the last time I saw Simon; he had reached in and grabbed a razor. Which reminds me, I just replaced all the razors. I figured they would be getting dull since the last time we bought some was at Christmas. Speaking of Christmas; I have an alert set on my phone to check plane tickets in September for when we fly back East for the holidays. 


 Four. That’s the time of day that I have to start thinking about supper, because by 4:45 PM the kids are melting down and if you can hold them off from eating till 5:15 PM then you are an amazing sorcerer. The strawberries in the fridge need to be eaten; they will be going bad in a few days. I know that if I don't chop them up, the likelihood of them getting consumed is low. Sigh. I'll do that this afternoon. The shrimp in the freezer has been there for at least four months, I should use them to make some curry. I can list off, at any given moment, which items need to be eaten and in what order so that we don't have too much waste. 

I CEO'd the shit out of that spinach; that I grew, myself. 

I CEO'd the shit out of that spinach; that I grew, myself. 



Five. That’s how many weeks we have until Gabe starts school. I can't believe my baby is going to school. Holy. F'n. Shit. I really hope he stops picking his nose/touching his penis as much as he does before these 5 weeks are up. The school supply list from his teacher is in the back of my agenda. He’s going to need new shoes for sure, pants and sweaters. He’s good for t-shirts though, I did a big American Apparel haul at the beginning of summer. I would love to get him this sweet Herschel backpack that I saw the other day; but, I know he would flip over a Star Wars one so I'll check amazon. Speaking of amazon, I just renewed our Prime Membership. Oh, and I renewed our AMA membership, too. 


Six. That is how many weeks until we all have a doctor appointment. I’m so glad I got in with that new clinic; our current family doc isn’t the greatest. I did a lot of research on this new place; I’m hopeful. Simon needs a pediatrician appointment because I feel a ridge on his skull and I just want to make sure everything is OK. I’ll have to book that after our camping trip. We leave for Jasper in two days. There is so much I have to do. I'm going open some wine. 


Seven. That’s how many days there are in a week that my brain is filled with all this insane, small, large, busy information. 7 P.M. is also the hour that I can generally assume that my youngest is peaceful and asleep. Except for last night; last night he was very upset. For hours. At first, I thought it was his molars coming in.  Then it dawned on me that I had fed him some hippy shit from Costco with chia seeds and spirulina/green powder etc and that stuff always gives me a tummy ache. Maybe it did the same for him? That explains the exploding poop. 


Eight. How many hours of sleep I wish I was getting in a night.

You guys look so cute in that chariot that I found on Kijiji after months of searching. I got such a good price. 

You guys look so cute in that chariot that I found on Kijiji after months of searching. I got such a good price. 


Nine. 9 P.M. is the time of the day that I finally start doing things for myself. It’s the hour where my blog posts get written or I do yoga or drink wine while watching terrible, B class TV. I’m already so tired but if I don’t make these ‘me’ things a priority; I’ll really fucking crack. 


Ten. That's how many days we have left before I fly to New Brunswick alone with the boys. It is going to be one. long. freaking. flight. I'm actually not too scared; I don't usually get anxious flying. I've been quite lucky *knock on wood* up to this point with great little travelers. Between now and then I need to buy some new, small, toys for the plane. We also need to purchase birthday presents for both of our Mothers. Don't worry, husband, I have already figured out what to get. Since we will be gone for over two weeks I am also coming up with cute little "I love you" reminders for you to find around the house. I'll scatter them everywhere, just like my brain. Then you will really miss me.