How Mommy Puts the "F" in Effort

I feel like I'm in one of those dreams where you're running and you don't get anywhere. I'm so tired tonight. I think the crud is catching up with me--I've been ignoring it for a week and a half and I'm running out of steam. Add to that the wind from the massive cold front moving in and it's allergy city here. Bleh.
I guess it is supposed to be in the 50s as a high tomorrow (and it was in the mid 80s today, so wow). Thankfully it will be back up again by the weekend for Halloween and Laney's birthday party. I've been madly dashing about to get a party together by Sunday. I finally got off my duff and decided to do something. It's last minute again. I don't know what my problem is that I can't decide on things in advance. I'm vowing to do better next year. In honor of that resolution, I've picked both a date and a theme for the twins birthday in June. June 12th. Cowboys.
The post title is partially the result of the failure to plan ahead for Laney's birthday and partially due to me running around here this morning after getting up late, realizing that my kitchen floor is a biohazard, having Kenna break a kitchen chair by jumping on it until it fell over while I'm wiping G's crappy butt with dried out wipes because that's all I have left, getting dressed at the couch because all the clean clothes are piled there and then--the piece de resistance! opening the closet door to discover the I'm Special Bag and it's completely blank poster that was supposed to be done for school today. It's Laney's special week and her mother f**cked it up. Then my inlaws showed up.
So. It was Grandparent day at preschool today and Ollie and Don went. Laney thought that was pretty awesome. Hopefully there will not be a problem with her being special on Thursday.
In the win column for the week, I have to mention that I'm steadily making progress on cleaning the garage and I single handedly got my husband's metal Marine Corp footlocker to the top of my garage shelving. It's really heavy, but after much huffing and puffing and failed attempts to lift it to the top of the shelving while standing on a step ladder, I finally had an epiphany: take it apart, lift all the parts up there and then reassemble. While I was at it, I stuffed the contents of another box of Marine crap in there and cut down on the clutter. Ha ha!! Why the top of the shelves for a giant heavy item? Well, our shelves have difficult to change shelves and the top shelf had exactly the right amount of height to the ceiling. So I saved the good storage space for something we might need access to--like the extra diapers and ideally, more wipes. So, you might be asking yourself, "self, what is she doing cleaning the garage when her house is obviously going to hell?" and my answer is "hell if I know".