The Nap-time Rush

Greta-girl goes down for a nap around 11 and I can barely get into my paint-splattered yoga pants fast enough.  There's a whole list of things I can't do when Greta is awake.  Clean up our bedroom.  Clean the bathrooms.  Paint.  Paint the family room.  Paint her new room's closet doors.  Touch up the trim in her new room.  Repaint those canvases.  Tackle a huge canvas.  Spray paint a mirror.  Spray paint frames.  Organize the basement.  Do anything on a ladder.  My mind is in a frenzy for a few minutes and it settles down as I check my e-mail and my facebook and my blogs and then Pinterest--and I am inspired again, and I quickly get to work prying open a can of fresh, white paint and putting finishing touches on all the trim in Greta's new room.  The almond-y doors and baseboards are now fresh white after my 5th and final coat of white paint and the room is ready to get carpet in (again) tomorrow.  I know I need to jump in the shower, another thing I can't do while Greta is awake, but I would love to fiddle with some frames for the gallery wall above the staircase.  I get out lots of large art and small frames and an old paint-by-numbers I found at a thrift store and start arranging them on the living room floor.  Definitely something I couldn't do with her running around.  I play with them and move them around and snap a picture and move them around more and snap another picture for reference.  I look at the clock and think I gotta get in the shower.  I measure the arrangement and make sure it will fit on the wall and then stash the frames away again until the weekend when I can summon Chris's help to hang them.  I am running up the stairs and taking down my hair at the same time to save every second toward the hot shower I have been craving all morning.

I hear stirring in her room and think, this is gonna have to be quick.  After 2 minutes of blissful showering, I put a little mousse in my hair and pull it into a braid to the tune of a chattering, little, one-year old jumping up and down on her, now, squeaking mattress.  She's rested and happy to see me.  I'm exhausted, but just as happy to see her.