Normal?

Okay. So last week was back to normal week for us. The last few have been c-razy. Starting all the way back at Christmas. I mean, there was that. And then preschool did not resume until, like, the SECOND week of January. Okay, fine. I'm sure a teacher workday was needed that week so that the teachers could do things like, oh, I don't know, organize construction paper? After that there were one or 2 normal weeks, and then Ava got sick and missed a few days, and then we went to Disney World. Fun times for all. But we came back to snow. So again? No school. And we live in the South, so anything more than a dusting of snow means life must come to a complete stop. (An aside: why are people so obsessed with milk and bread when it's going to snow? I mean, I obsess that there will not be enough wine in my house, but staples like milk and bread? Totally secondary). So like I was saying, we were finally back to our normal this week. Of course, around here, normal means stressed mommy in the morning. I am quite lucky that I don't have top-of-the-mornin'-to-ya kind of kids. They get up no earlier than 7. So, of course, I should get up and get ready before they do. But do I? Noooooo. So, we all rise somewhere around 7, and then some sort of time vaccum comes along and sucks out all the minutes between 7 and 8:30am, and then I get all panicky and rushed trying to get all of us out the door and to preschool on time. Now, does it matter if we are late to preschool? Probably not. I mean, I'm pretty sure it's not the Land of Academia. But those 3 hours? Like temporal gold to me. So, we get there as early as allowed. Anyway, I'm not really sure what happened, but Thursday morning I had some sort of "I-look-like-crap-and-have-nothing-to-wear-and-oh-my-god-I-can't-leave-the-house-without-flat-ironing-my-hair" meltdown. Husband is just looking on helplessly and probably thinking, "Uh oh. The crazy bee-yatch is back." I had to text him a little later and formally apologize for my temporary insanity. He didn't respond, which I think probably translates to, "Right. I am used to it. And I know it will happen again very soon. Like, next Wednesday." My point? (Because I do have one). Normal to me is not normal. I always feel frazzled. I always feel rushed. And this? Is all okay with me. Because really. It's not a bad life.