Plan of Attack:

So I have the kids now. Well, three of them. And that hugely overwhelming sense of anxiety is back, that I had a couple weeks ago when bank account A was overdrawn $2000 and my only hope of a paycheck was lost in the mail. The paychecks, and possibly even the child support payments, have settled into a predictable rhythm (into bank account B), that gives me hope that the financial desperation is over. The anxiety stems from the fact that I have a ginormous refrigerator and a washing machine that I cannot lift by myself, to move. Sweet, sweet Jessica has offered to help, and I know that I can con ricker and maybe even Nate into helping me, but my back has been so bad these last few days that for some ridiculous reason the thought of moving the big things is giving me panic attacks. Maybe that's what I am pinning the panic on, when really it has more to do with the pure, unadulterated upheaval of our lives, and the intense longing I have for us to be settled into a rhythm of work and school and peace and productivity. Long term. But I fear that just as soon as we get into the swing of things I will find myself laid off. This is where I am on my face before god, in whatever form he exists, and I plead for mercy. Let me find favor with the powers that be and let me stay employed this winter. For the sake of my children, please.

But I am trying to focus, not on the 5.5 foot pile of misc crap in my small room at Ricker's, that I am sure stresses him out as much as me, but the fact that the whole pile will soon be in our new house, and will be put away, or maybe sold, or thrown away, within the next couple of weeks. But I am so tired. I want, once again, the fairy godmother. who apparently decided I am too much work and went on permanent hiatus. So, tomorrow morning, I will load as much sh** into the rig as possible, go up to Tumalo and offload said sh**, hook up to the trailer, and begin the perilous journey of relocation, yet again. As much as you have all heard me say it time and time again, I would just as soon burn down the entire house, complete with all my earthly possessions, as I would move again, any time in the foreseeable future.

There is so, so much to do. I am in complete physical disarray, and keep trying to snap myself into clear functionality. But until this fall when I can finally end the constant torment that my uterus provides, I will keep having to push through the misery and pretend I am fine.

On the up side, we floated the river today, got a tinge of sunburn, and watched the Bend Elks make a poor showing at the league championship game. It wasn't a bad day, and I kept trying to remind myself of that when I was fighting the urge to pass out and/or cry. Just my body against me now. The rest is cake.

So how to approach this next phase of life: without the aid of prozac, I will be proactive, confident, and I will not give up or let down until we have a life that all 5 of us can live with. Ok, granted, Natalee will not have her own room, in spite of the fits, and they will all be fighting about some aspect of the sleeping and living arrangements, but that just comes with the territory of having 5 girls in one house, right? It will be great. No TV to melt our brains, no video games to turn us into zombies, plenty of things to fight about, though, bathroom usage, disappearing hairbrushes, etc. It will all be just like home in no time at all.