Control Freak

If only I had more arms.

A bigger brain.

Additional feet and legs.

I could tie shoes, teach letter sound awareness, clean toilets, give the dogs their Interceptor and still unload the dishwasher.  I could remember to pick up toothpaste and dental floss at the 5 Below store I was just in today instead of the Giant I won't be in until the weekend.

I could:

• put away the clothes still stacked on our bureau.
• make room inside the drawers so we wouldn't have to stack in the first place.
• call my mom, my dad, my brothers, my aunt, my Otter (I miss you too, K!), my friends.
• practice guitar chords.
• plan a menu for the week on a Sunday, not panic on a Wedensday.
• vacuum.
• walk the dogs around the neighborhood, not the cul-de-sac.
• make that dentist appointment for that root canal I've been putting off since 2010.
• try yoga.
• write instead of post. 
• teach Abby the alphabet.
• teach Grayson how to ride his bike without training wheels.
• read anything other than headlines.

But I know that time will come.  That I should just be sitting back and soaking in the sunshine that is a five-year-old boy and his three-year-old sister.

I know this yet I still cannot slow down my brain.  Like there is a FJ Cruiser (Tonka blue) at the end of this never ending To Do list.

No new car.  Not even a clean kitchen. 

How do you pull in the reins of a stuttering, adrenalized, oh-so-pushy brain?

Or is it Domestica wearing her skull cap rowing to the next island for the vote off ceremony?

Maybe an organizer.

There is new Staples down the street.

I should at least stop there to smell the Sharpies.