who's the bitch?

Will I ever be organized again? I used to pride myself in my abilities to do two or three tasks at once and complete the majority of the jobs I set out to finish each day. Our house was clean and non-gooey. I was creative and did a tonne of projects with the kids without losing it over ridiculously stupid minutae. I got frustrated occasionally but not....constantly.
Now....well, now things are messy. I can't complete things without losing some pertinent tool needed for the task only to find it later in some odd place like the freezer or my underwear drawer. I can't concentrate during phone calls and have lists of 'to-do's that don't get completed for weeks. The house is in disarray and I have a sneaky suspicion that it smells of dog...or chickens. I am a frothing spazzing mommy who loses it over such stupid stuff that this little voice in the back of my head is constantly saying to me, "She is only five. She's going to hate you when she's 13 because of this. Why does it matter that she speaks babytalk all the time? You can get sleep when she's older and over the trauma of Jeff's death. He'll stop nursing one day and you'll be able to sleep in the fetal position rather than like the statue thingy on the front of boats that has it's chest thrust out for easy access. He'll stop clinging to your leg and pulling your pants down at inopportune moments if you pick him up. Why are you such a freak? God, you're an awful mother. Jeff would be pissed if he could see you screaming at the kids for bringing the dogs up the stairs after a rain storm with muddy feet when you only shampooed the carpets last week....etc."
I am left wondering if I will ever be able to be the mom I want to be. If I'll ever be able to mow the lawn, put up shelves, take care of sick little ones in the middle of the night, deal with Jeff's company crap without being pissed at him for dying and leaving me to do this all by myself. He was the mentally stable one *snicker* and I needed him to be my 'rock'. I feel like a flaming lunatic. I want organization and sanity back. I want to be able to concentrate. I want to be able to have the drive to do all the projects I need to complete and not have a list that never seems to end.
Fuck, will it ever get better. Also, sorry for my potty mouth. It's another post-death side-effect that is unsavory, yet strangely satisfying. I always could swear like a sailor...but not when kids or grandparents were around...Now, they are just words. Words that seem to release some anger or frustration each time I say them. Is that weird?