I was just starting to recover from running this winter where the wind chill put us at negative 25 degrees and now it decides to snow on April 5. Just in time for Easter. What? We didn't have snow for Christmas but we will be hunting eggs in piles of white fluff! My chocolate egg stash in the ever-sticky minivan will be frozen. And let me point out that this is not the stash for the kids Easter baskets, but my stash to sneak while I'm trying to keep my sanity going from one activity to the next. Now don't get me wrong, I love frozen chocolate when appropriate and expected, but this is not what I consider timely.
Knowing what is going to happen or having an expectation of what is going to happen in the near future is very important to my mindset. How I ended up with four kids is so beyond me, especially because I can't predict more than one minute henceforth. If SPD had been a recognizable disorder when I was a child and my mother went through the proper channels (most assuredly unlikely as she didn't think it odd that I wore sweat pants or worn out corduroys for the first 10 years of my life) to get me diagnosed, maybe, just maybe, some wonderful therapist would have gently suggested that someone with my degree of sensory defensiveness should not have children, ever. Unless of course I was capable of producing sticky hating children too. And what are the odds of that, especially with a husband who is capable of wearing LONG underwear in July and socks with seams that would send me into convulsions.