My lack of motivation, and energy for that matter, is a thorn in the side of "Operation Sell Home." I do have a good excuse though. Last night, more like this morning, Blake wakes up crying. Being the good mom I am, I decided to let him cry it out, only he doesn't stop. This was at 2:00. I finally got him to go back to sleep around 4:30ish, after a series of HGTV shows, a shot of motrin, and a snot filled blankie. Then when I go to lay down, I can't sleep. My mind starts filling up with all the things I need to do today. I believe I drifted off shortly before 5:00. Neil kindly woke me up before he left at 7:00 to tell me Owen was awake. Forty five minutes later, I heard footsteps on the stairs. Owen's head peeked around the corner and dissapears. I jumped out of bed and flew to the door just in time to see Owen climbing up into Blake's bed. Okay, I guess I'm up now, foggy head and all. Now it's not the items in my head reminding of my tasklist for the day, it's everything I see around me. Suddenly I feel like crawling in a hole and pretending the outside world doesn't exist. Don't worry, I'd take the kids with me and just make sure there are plenty of snacks and a few Blue's Clues videos. We'd be set.

Being that this isn't an option, I made breakfast for the boys, a grand one consisting of off-brand Lucky Charms and juice, and a cup of coffee for myself. Then I thought writing would help clear my head, so I put on Super Why for the boys (great show by the way), and got started. I'm actually starting to feel motivation seeping into my veins. It's more likely the caffeine, but I'll call it what I like.

Switching gears to something entirely unrelated to selling homes or sleepless nights. I went to visit Jo this weekend in Philly. She just had a beautiful baby girl, Evie, and I went to do what I do best...hang out. I would have liked to have been more helpful, but Jo is unlike most women I know postpartum (well at least me), she's still capable of multitasking. It was a good visit, and I realize how much I miss spending time with her. As I was getting ready to leave, Jo brought down some maternity clothes she'd borrowed, which is good cause I'll be needing them soon. She told me that she was returning a book I'd given her because she found an inscription on the inside cover from my dad. That's weird. I only remember having two books inscribed by Dad, Scary Stories and More Scary Stories, and I didn't give either of those to Jo. When I pulled out the book, an antique doll book, and opened the cover, sure enough, it was from Dad. I'd know his signature anywhere. Dated 11-15-87, it was shortly after Mom and Dad told us they were getting a divorce. I wonder if it was some sort of peace offering, a way of telling me that it wasn't about me. Clearly it was a very special moment in my life since I have no recollection of it. Isn't that weird? Why would I remember the Scary Story books and not this one; maybe because it's so girly, or maybe because I knew it was wrapped in guilt. Either way, I'm glad I have it now. However it made the drive home a little teary. I've actually been thinking about Dad a lot lately. Becca told me yesterday that she keeps wanting to call Dad to tell him she's moved. I get that. I've been there several times. I'm thinking that the shock value has worn off and reality is setting in. Jo put it well when she said that most days are pretty normal, especially since I'm so far removed from him anyways, but on the days that he'd normally be a part of, that's when it gets rough. The funny thing is that when I saw his signature in the book, a flood of memories came rushing back to me...from when I was a child. That's good because maybe it will help me remember him before the sickness. Someone told me while I was sitting in the hospital that I wouldn't remember my dad like that, but so far, I'm still haunted by his face just after he died; a face I don't recognize. I can't wait to get to the point where I think of him and remember my dad, not the cancer.

Off to put my house back together again.