Lest you think (from my Math post) that we live in squalor, surrounded by disorderly piles of yarn and fiber, let me assure you, we do not. It's all organized and shelved, there is just a *lot* of it. (I once had a guest who remarked, "LOOK! It's all labeled so you know what you're stealing!")
I can still pull stuff out of the closet (and off of the shelves), but lifting has become a bit of an issue, so a lot of things get pulled out until I can get help putting them back away. Lucky for me, I married up. By "up" I mean "tall and does my heavy lifting".
We spent a lot of this last weekend with me directing Andrew on where to move things that I had intended to take care of, but really couldn't manage on my own. While I prize my "Lady Hulk" title, I am learning to ask for help when I need it. And ask I did.
I'm used to making lists, and systematically accomplishing things on the list. It's incredibly satisfying. However. If you make a list for someone else, someone who (perhaps) works full time and is your Lovable Beast of Burden, it can make you feel like a bit of a jerk. Especially when by the time your Lovable Beast of Burden comes home, you are SO TIRED and can not be on your feet for ONE MORE SECOND.
... Especially if you *might* be giving directions from the couch, where you might be knitting and watching TV, or laying down with the TV on. There has been a lot of TV involved, along with obsessively reading about how to not be a terrible parent. Or vampires. You know, to mix it up a little. (I know, I know. For true literary balance, I should be reading about the zombie apocalypse, too. My shortcomings are many. Thank goodness I'm cute.)
Instead of feeling guilty (because that's not my forte), I'm using my project management skills to work out what needs to get done in order of priority with Andrew. I don't actually make the lists, and I'm learning to be okay with it
when things don't get done RIGHT AWAY. I see it as practice for when
the SharkBean joins us.
I'm not letting everything slip- I've been working with the dogs on some training that has needed to get done, since that's all about being consistent and not about muscle. On top of that, I'm trying to teach Elphie how to fold laundry, since she is Very Interested in clean laundry. Unfortunately, she lacks some dexterity, so this hasn't worked all that well. Proof that not all ideas are good ones.
She sticks to doing what I fondly refer to as "furmanent press"- which is rolling all over warm, clean, flattened laundry. Considering what I've heard about what *other* dogs like rolling in, I'm 100% okay with her rolling on clean laundry. What's a little dog fur between friends?
SIDE NOTE: I was reading one of the parenting books y'all suggested (I've checked them ALL out, and I'm currently powering through them), and the one I'm reading now seems to have followed my mother around and modeled their "ideal" solutions around how she raised us. When I asked her, she claims to have neither read nor written the book. Further proof of my mother's innate awesomeness.