Crazy Level: Red

So, dear blog-stalkers (I know you're out there), I've been neglecting you. The already-scarce breathing room in my life and brain that was reserved for the occcasional blog has been rudely taken hostage by The Madness That Is My Life.

In my head I often think about the state of my life in terms of the terrorism threat level (you know, green, yellow, orange, red). We started to take the craziness to Level Red a few weeks ago when we started a major home renovation project that needed to be completed before a certain holiday family dinner was held at our home for the Very First Time. In what is just one of the many complexities of this home improvement project, the area being renovated is in the basement, where little boys can hear loud noises right below them when they're trying to sleep.... which means they either go to bed way late, or they have to stay elsewhere for the day or night.

And I've determined that the Greek derivative for "home renovation" is actually tied to the same derivatives for the word "divorce." Let's just say it was the hand of God that led us to decide the remodel the kitchen before we moved in.

But don't feel too sorry for me. Feel sorry for my poor kids, who don't know whether they're coming or going. On top of all of this, I've had an unusually few busy weeks of deadlines with work. It's one thing to be slammed at work when you go to an office and do your thing and go home. It's a whole other deal when you work from home and there are no boundaries.... meaning sometimes you're putting a casserole together, screaming at a child to use the potty, and sending an email on your Blackberry all at the same time. I've always tried to only work when they're sleeping or being taken care of by someone else, but lately I've just had to fit it all together.

Suffice to say, I don't feel like we've been stellar parents lately. We're on survival mode here, and apparently, it shows.

One morning the boys were playing while I sat and returned some emails. Ben briefly came over to show me something, but Jake knew I was trying to work.

"Come on Ben, you're bothering Mommy." No, no, it's okay, I insisted. They glanced at me for a second and then went right back to playing, as if to say Whatever, Mommy.

And then the other day, after giving Hilton a hug down in the basement during a quick break from the renovations, Ben knew the drill.

"Now get back to work, Daddy." Yes sir.

And then Jake, trying to get my attention somehow, anyhow, to remind me that he needed me, took to following me around the house.

"Mommy, I like you," he said over and over, in a sad, dramatic little voice.

Enough was enough. Bring out the crafts, bring out the trikes, it was playtime with the boys.

This one's for you, my little boys. Hang in there. It'll be Thanksgiving soon and things will be much.... calmer?