If drama is a llama than everyday life is a narcoleptic sloth with insomnia.

Picture stress as a person.  Better yet, picture it as a gigantic monster of some sort.  I'm not talking about Godzilla.  That's too clean and dry.  Picture something slimier.  It oozes.  It drips.  It stomps all over the place and not only can you not run away fast enough (I keep picturing Indie and the giant rolling boulder), but you then have to clean up the mucous left in its wake.

If stress is a looming dripping monster, what then is the incessant banter of little people? I see it as teeny tiny horse-riding knights wielding sharp weapons.  There are gangs of them rampaging through my head.  They bombard normal thought and slice them in half.  These vicious loud banter knights hide in the pathway from my head to my fingers and jump out and pierce creativity before it has a chance to be born into the world.  

Then what is everyday routine?  In my mind, it's a narcoleptic sloth.  It's insane amounts of dragging and exhaustion.  Can one have insomnia AND be narcoleptic?  If so, then the everyday monotony is an insomniac narcoleptic sloth.  It's constantly exhausted, doesn't get very far because it keeps conking out, yet can't ever get enough sleep when necessary.

Maybe everyday routine is a vacuum; sucking away time, creativity, youth, gentleness, and the ability to create a list of words which accurately describe just WHAT it removes.

As if you haven't been able to guess, the malaise has set in.  Let me say, I've actually been in remarkably good spirits lately.  Sure, there are small things I wish were different, but I'm very happy with my life.  I find myself having a number of, "This is awesome," moments lately.  Yet, the daily routine leaves little to no time for creativity.  You can't sit down and read or write (for your own enjoyment, not the kids') when you have two or three meetings scheduled with the real estate agent this week or when there are crepes to be cooked (or at least supervised--and eaten, of course) with the kids for a homeschool event, or a toddler to catch as she tries to perfect her dives off the top bunk.

When I do try to channel my creativity, little people constantly pop in and talk at me or they fight with each other or someone stomps off in someone else's giraffe rain boots and screaming ensues.  It is not physically possible to create when there is screaming over giraffe boots.

Do you have any idea how many times I have started and stopped this blog entry?  Do you have any idea how many times I've caught little people reading over my shoulder?  These kids are destroying my ever loving mind  patience.

And right on freaking cue: 
Pardon me for just one moment.  We will return to your regularly scheduled blog post when my son stops telling (complete with wild hand gestures and sound effects) about the video game he will create when he's older and owns his own flying car company and...(sorry my brain is overloaded.  I have abso-freaking-lutely no idea what else he said, only that it was very very loud and insistent). 


Wait, wait, wait, can't get back to the blog entry just yet.  Oldest asked me what to do with something with which she already knew exactly what to do.  


Pardon me one more moment.  Must remove head from desk (and insert plugs in ears).  

Oh hell!  Just freaking forget it.  THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I'M COMPLAINING ABOUT.  I had a thought.  I started this (12 freaking hours ago) with a point, but all the mundane everyday crap ran that thought and inspiration off.

There was more I wanted to write, but I'll be damned if I can remember it now.