750,362,957 work stops from the children
(I’m suddenly as popular with them as I was when they were two-years old)

17 boxes

7 loads of laundry

5 more damage claims
(including vintage clutch purse my mother carried at her prom)

5 more times to exercise Grace
(less than 7×70…)

4 meal cycles
(another day when it seems all the kids do is eat)

3 crying spells
(Middle Girl, The Baby and The Mamma)

2 family meetings

2 broken outlets

1 sibling mediation
(Don’t even get me started…)

1 broken garage door

1 workout

It’s a challenge not to brew overwhelm like sun tea.

I think the boxes might actually be asexually reproducing.
For all I know sexually reproducing
given the perversity of the prospect.

The discovery of damage continues to rise and each box takes 2-5 times longer than it should to process as most are so poorly packed that it looks like a boxed Goodwill donation bin.

I worked most of the day and did not accomplish half of what I had hoped.

I am seriously contemplating tossing boxes unopened into the pool as a new water sport like polo. We could host a tournament. What a great way to meet the neighbors.

Speaking of the neighbors, we haven’t seen any. We learned yesterday that we arrived not only in the “hottest season,” but also the “like Winter season, this is the time of year that people stay in and don’t come out much because it is too hot.”

This news thrilled the children who are so sick enough of each other as to consider me good entertainment. We spend lots of time together. It’s like the old days and I once again can’t go to the bathroom without interruption. It’s not a good hiding spot; they keep finding me.

A little sore and cranky, I nonetheless look forward to many things:

Like the first day I find a box without something in it broken,
the first morning no one cries,
when obligatory food no longer tastes like sandpaper,
the first room empty of boxes,
art hung on yellow walls,
familiar photos on wiped,
well lit shelves,
empty laundry hampers,
a full larder,
being able to do the splits for the first time in my life,
(I’m getting closer every day)
the first new friend,
the first visit Here from somebody from There,
a church that fits like Dansko clogs
and ready to walk this with us,
the first day of school,
being able to bench 120 pounds,
my first visit There from Here,
the first waffle as it melts pools of
butter puddles
in square pockets of yum,
sleeping through the night,
(even the Mamma regresses behaviorally here…)
and puffs of breath
that polish hope
like silver Hallelujahs.

And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah!