Motherhood's off-button?

So, Eli is OK. He's recovering from the flu, but I still can't believe how that fever kicked his body into a colvusion. I hate that. And I'm glad I didn't have to witness it.

You know, I have to be honest when I say that something shifted within me that day. That feeling of being torn has been swirling around in my head and heart. And it's not going anywhere. I went to lunch with my co-worker, C, Friday and we talked about it. She doesn't have kids, so she doesn't fully understand, but still, she listened.

It's hard. It's really hard.

But, I have a great job--one that is sending me to New Orleans this month. I'll be in the heart of the French Quarter; I've never been and I'm excited. But, the excitement is sort of a temporary band aid. I still feel ... torn.

Can't get into that too much. You understand.

So, I'm sitting here in the Oaks Mall in the food court staring at the tiny laptop. Our internet is out at home right now. (Now, that's some real pain, lol.) And that's why I haven't been around too much. But, my house is complete chaos.

I swear I can't walk across the livingroom without being tackled by my (recovering) 3-year-old. Oh, he's perked right on up. With all the screaming and the tackling and the whining, I knew I had to leave so that I could work on the manuscript.

(Which, by the way, I am down to the wire on!)

And as I was packing my briefcase, my daughter asked if she could come.

"You don't understand," I said. "I will be working. Strictly working. No fun. No play. No Build-A-Bear. No shopping ..."

She wasn't discouraged. And so, I caved. She packed a little pink bag filled with crayons, paper, her DS, and well, here we are in a mad sea of orange and blue. It's kind of ironic to be in the middle of the gator-crazed crowd when I'm sitting here writing about Tebow.

But, I thought to myself a few moments ago (before I hopped on the blog), people probably think I'm the worst mom in the world. I'm staring at my laptop and barely speaking to my daughter, who happens to be staring off into space right now. Great.

I knew this wasn't going to quite work out. OK, good, she's drawing now.

And now, I have to get to work. But, I wanted to stop by for a few minutes while I had the chance. I think Naomi and I will have to hit up Chic-Fil-A for an ice-cream cone. Motherhood's off-button? Doesn't exist. (Even when you're on deadline.)

In torturous-eyebrow-wax heaven!

Today was a crazy blur of boxes (we're moving this weekend), barbecue (company picnic) and birthday dinner (Yamato Japanese Steakhouse). Oh, and somewhere in-between all of it, I met Jaime (a professional photographer, woo hoo!) for my headshots at Kanapaha Botanical Gardens (a Gainesville gem).

So, I was exhausted and pretty much running on empty when on the way home from the editorial picnic, I told hubby that I had just one lil' stop to make. In less than 30 minutes, I'd be getting my headshots for the book. And I. hate. pictures. And my eyebrows were looking crazy. And I didn't have "the" shirt to wear. And I didn't have any earrings that I liked for the shot.

And, somewhere in the middle of my "little" list, hubby threw in the towel. "Okay" is all he could muster. I couldn't help it. I was being a total girl.

But I was bordering on being a frantic girl. With 8-year-old daughter in hand, I bolted out of the mom van and hit Happy Nail. "Eyebrows, please."

The petite Asian woman, who had been sitting quietly reading a magazine, was more than happy to see me. I laid back in the, um, eyebrow chair (?) and closed my eyes. Now, usually I kind of despise pain. But, on this day, I embraced it.

I had just stepped into Happy-Nail heaven. I listened to the soothing, classical music and I thought a heard the peaceful gushing of water and ... there were no screaming kids; and there was no sticky watermelon juice dripping from my baby's hands into the crevasses of my toes; and my eyes were closed--without the threat of my home being set ablaze.

I was in heaven! I mean, until the ... pull, rip and burn.

Oh, I don't even care if you do it again, woman! Just let me sit here in the cool of the quiet, dimly lit room. After a few pull, rip and burns, she began gently massaging my forehead. I knew it was coming to an end as she rubbed the cool, post-eyebrow lotion just above and around my eyebrows.

But, wait, can't we re-do them? I mean, isn't it possible that "you missed a spot?" Yes, you missed a spot. Please, let me just sit here in this chair with the music and the faux waterfall sounds and the no-screaming kids. Please, can I? I'll be your guinea pig. Just let me sit. And do nothing.

But, my time was up. And then I thought: Wow. I don't even care about the pain. As long as there is peace and quiet. You think she'll remember me if I go back tomorrow? I can pretend to be my twin and …

(Yes, people, this is what having four kids will do to you.)

Indeed, when there are four kids, the torturous eyebrow wax becomes your version of a spa treatment. Scary, wonderful stuff. I look at it this way, though: my eyebrows are going to look amazing until the last kid leaves for college.

Everyone always loves the volcano!

My two favorite girls at the ediorial picnic. My daughter (right) and neice (left).

Me and my boy. He is the one I prayed for--for an entire year. And then God gave him to me; and on many occassions, God reminded me of that! "Well, you wanted him!" LOL. He is my most challenging child and I love every bit of it. Tonight, that is. Because he is sleeping right now.

Wanting to be like his firefighter daddy! See Rock in the background? No, not a rock. My Rock!

Everyone in the place thought these were all my kids. Makes sense because they are all the same (shades of) color, lol.

Me and my hubby. There are three kids missing from this picture. I can't believe I have four children. Yes, I still have days when I have to wrap my mind around that one.