Excuses, excuses

Harra, harra. I don't know what that means, but I guess it's my alternative to "harumph." Like the noise you make when you want to sound cynical and suspicious, but you don't have any words. Or when you don't know what to say. 

We I Olson have been lax on the blog lately. Papa gets a pass--he's been prepping for Holy Week, Easter, and a host of meetings/congregational life things that pastors tend to get in clumps (kind of like funerals always seem to happen in clumps. Like two years ago when Papa officiated at four funerals in two weeks. An older member came up to him after a service and said, "Don't worry, Pastor. I'll try to save you some work and not die.") Yet I digress again.

My excuse reason for not blogging is domestic. I'm a control freak, and I like a neat, clean house. With two--check that, three--boys, that gets challenging, which isn't even necessary to  say. Actually, my cleanliness fastidiousness waxes and wanes--I can actually go (two) weeks without cleaning the bathroom. (!!!) Anyway, I started getting behind, and not just with dusting the piano. We had dishes sitting by the sink for about four days. I hadn't gone into the laundry room for a week and a half. (Thank GOODNESS for a wonderful husband who does laundry!) So the thought of blogging just made me tired. And guilty. Because how could I blog when I had toothpaste residue on the sink? And other unmentionables that would guilt me into not typing.

This is borderline OCD, I know. And I've actually gotten better at setting some of this aside since we've had the boys! But what really put it over the edge was a few weeks ago I started feeling S-I-C-K. All day long. This was after the positive test but before the first appointment. In the back of my mind, I thought, "I started to feel like this at around six weeks with the boys, but... nooooo. I'm WAY past that." Yeah, right. If you pay close attention to this blog, you'd have noticed a few days ago that the baby calendar suddenly changed. Well, our baby's due date is December 11. Which means that I'm currently seven weeks, three days pregnant. Which is way earlier than what we originally thought.

So as these next weeks slog trickle go by, I'm praying for more energy to do dishes, laundry, and to blog. That sounds really pathetic and woe-is-me.  I've got it really easy. I'm healthy, Baby's healthy--we have the eensy, weensy, picture to prove it! Sorry, no digital version yet!--and I already get to nest when I have the urge. Like last week, when I ignored the dishes and the blog to clean out the spice/baking cupboard. Just wait until I hit week ten and I've got loads of energy again! Here I come, clothes closets!

You should have seen it BEFORE! Seven dirty piles of laundry not shown. And now you know why I've been exhausted for the last week and a half--this really took it out of me. All that cinnamon and ground ginger sorting.