I Get By With A Little Help . . .

Thanks for all the tips, my friends. They are excellent, and as I read them I was immediately compiling a Funk-Buster List in my head.

I naturally gravitated toward the suggestions including wine, chocolate, and alone time, but I think what may do me even more good right now are more prayers and the B complex vitamins. Thanks for the reminder, Lisa, because my system gets completely out of whack without B vitamin supplements.

I don't feel quite as funky as I did last night, and interestingly enough, I think it's because I cleaned my bathrooms. Barbara was right; just doing something -- anything -- on my list made me feel better.

I didn't realize it, but I've been slowly burning myself out this summer. I've been having lots of fun with the kids, but in doing so, I've let some things slip around here. I know myself well enough to know that I function better when a routine is followed -- even a pared down, simple summer schedule.

In my quest to make this the Summer of Fun, I've been letting the kids slide in their chores and I've been picking up the slack on the fly. I thought it would be easier, and in many ways it started out that way.

Unfortunately, "the fly" often translates to late nights or, worse, frenzied, yelling clean-up sessions while we are trying to get out the door to do something else.

Nothing says Have Fun Today! more clearly than your mother screaming YOU HAVE THIRTY SECONDS TO EMPTY THE DISHWASHER OR I'M LEAVING WITHOUT YOU!

I just decided to put my head down, plow through a few home projects to get back on track, and I put the kids back on the job. Those few little things have already made a big difference in the way I feel.

I've also decided to get more sleep, so that means it's time for me to turn in, but not before I share this:

Tonight, Sally snuggled up to me on the sofa, waggled her fingers near my face, and whispered:

Mama, did you know I like Spiderman?

Um, no. No I didn't.

In fact, I had no idea that she even knew who Spiderman is, but Sally has been blessed with two older siblings who have been trying to sneak in some Spiderman cartoons while they are cleaning the playroom.

Of course, they always forget to bank on the company whistle blower. You think they would learn, right?

Had a two year old Francie been exposed to a half hour of Spiderman cartoons, I would have been horrified and chastened, and accepted it as a sure sign of my lax parenting and her immediate intellectual decline.

But as I carried Sally to bed and she begged grab me like Spiderman, Mama!, I laughed, grabbed her, and slung her into bed.

I don't know if this means I've grown and mellowed as a parent, or if I've just given up, but it all makes me laugh either way.