Last week was a wonderful week of warm weather, beach walks, fun and writing.
Then I came back.
Don't get me wrong. I love my kids and my family, but having only been back in the country for a little over 48 hours, I'm already feeling like the life vest has been snatched away and the waves are beginning to swell.
There are a bunch of things which didn't get taken care of while I was away (like a recall on our dishwasher because it likes to catch on fire, an infestation of wasps in the basement, calling someone in to look at our broken air conditioner, making sure the pharmacist ordered Alex's medication, etc.) that are now on my plate. And more that I'm sure I will discover.
I still have to deal with my inventory and gear from the conferences and get that put away. And get the winter clothes out of storage in the basement (once the wasps are taken care of). And deal with Alex's IEP and set up a meeting with the school. Plus deal with the fact that a lot of stuff got put into convenient piles in the household.
I have to work on behaviour issues, like Alex's button pushing (which has gotten worse), Nathan's truth telling (ditto), and Lynyrd's desire to chew stuffed animals. Then there's the vet appointments for both Neelix (cat) and Lynyrd (dog), and medication for Ceili. And get back to making sure Lynyrd has his daily training session (which he hasn't).
This is just a small cross-section of the stuff I need to manage on top of my job, my writing, and my own health. I took a week off and I will probably be paying for it for the next two months. This isn't unusual and why I resist taking time off.
I needed the time away and I'm glad I did it. It would just be a lot better if I didn't have to come back and immediately dive into waters that are far over my head.