Hubub

Well, this pretty much sums it up, right above.
That is what it is looking like in my house of late, and I am guessing it will for the rest of this week. And that is if we get GOOD news on Wednesday!
If we get bad news....well, I'm not sure anyone wants to see a picture of me sitting on the floor crying and holding my heart. I'll try to spare you that, at least.

But, we had the insane prom-o-rama this past weekend.
It was wonderful but the days of crazy prep?
Hubub.
Commotion.

Yesterday every one of us simply crashed into still prone states of migraine and/or sheer exhausted sleep deprivation, with an icing on top of too much sugar (amazing food by Mrs. DelG, one of the moms). Because when you have twenty teens in the house for an "up all night" party, you provide sugary and salty things. And when you are chaperoning twenty teens all night, you eat sugary and salty things. So...you can imagine the crash the next day. I'll let you do that.

Now. It's Monday.
And maybe, maybe we are flying halfway across the world in five days, half of us.
And it's another whole round of it.
Hubub.
Commotion.
Packing, soothing, stopping, starting, finding, copying, typing, sorting, zipping, folding, washing, cooking, hugging, listening, stopping, referring, directing, sighing, smiling.
Hubub.
From us all.

The kids sense it, I swear they are like dogs that way. (As soon as I move the duffels downstairs the dog will switch into anxiety too, I promise.)
And so, um, there is just a touch more work to do....
And the girls who are traveling know it, and are starting to move into overdrive: "Will we need this? Did you get that? Have you seen my shoes? Will I need this? What will I do for this?" and so on.
And the little boys and one big one who are not traveling are starting to move into underdrive: "I'm so tired. I have homework (the teen)" and more concerning to this mom's heart, "How long will you be gone? Will you call? Who is staying with us? Where will you be? When are you coming back? What if I have bad dreams?"

And I worry that they will have bad dreams.
And I worry that they will miss me.
And I worry that they will fall ill.
And I worry that they will fuss and fight.
And I worry that they won't miss me.
And I worry that my Gabey will not want me when I get home
(I KNOW better, it's primal I can't help it).

I worry about changing long standing doc appointments for next week, and know that I'll be thrilled to do so, but cannot yet. Everything I say is with a caveat, "We might be gone." "If we go, we will need to do this..." "I might not be able to..." and so on.

This week, these three days to be exact, is a balancing act. One foot on one side of a cliff, one foot on the other, don't look down, just look ahead and keep the balls juggling as you wiggle for balance.

So I am balancing, even as I am moving into final packing overdrive too, and pretending we are flying out on Saturday. Trying to slow down enough for the small boys {and the teen too}, for us all to get our fill of each other for a week or so, if you can do such a thing. But you know, there is really no balance, not really.

But there is one thing, inescapably, and I think it's best to accept it and move through it:
Hubub.