I can get easily overwhelmed by all there is to do. In those rare moments when Quinn is asleep and the dishes are done and the laundry is going, I can finally focus on the long list of neglected items. But the list grows faster that I can cross the items off, and I become paralyzed.
A few weeks ago, before we knew that Hubs’ foot was actually broken, he took Q over to his parents’ house for the afternoon. I had four hours in the house all alone. Four hours. I accomplished a fantastic amount during that time. I was a machine. And yet, it didn’t feel like enough. I didn’t have that proud, satisfied feeling when it was over.
Maybe because the list is still so long. Maybe because I kept bouncing from project to project, trying to accomplish too much at once. Maybe because no matter what I was doing, I felt like should be doing something else. Maybe because I kept waiting for the phone call that Quinn was really cranky and they needed me to go get them. I had hoped all that accomplishing would calm me, but the stress and spin remained.
When am I ever going to have four hours alone in the house again? How much time would I need to actually feel like it’s enough? How much do need to accomplish to feel proud of myself?
These are the thoughts that keep my stressed out brain buzzing at night when I should be sleeping. I stay up too late. My sleep is broken and restless. Too many action items. Too many thoughts.
Why isn’t Quinn walking yet? He took his first steps weeks ago, and yet he still won’t take more than two or three steps at a time, and even that’s rare. Is it my imagination, or does he walk on the inside of his left foot? Hubs says not to worry, but I’m going to ask the doc about it at his appointment in a few weeks.
Ugh! That’s Q’s fifteen-month appointment, and he’s still not walking. I feel like such a failure. The doc is going to think so, too. Hubs says we just need to practice with him more. We? He has a broken foot, so I have to practice with him more. But with what time? I’m already pulling double-duty. I spend every waking moment with Q, but it’s still not enough. I can’t do this by myself….
Quinn only nurses at bedtime now. Weaning him from the other feedings has been pretty easy, but this is the big one. Could tonight really have been the very last time I ever nurse him? I’ll be happy to get my boobs back, but it’s bittersweet. I’ll miss those tender moments with my baby boy, who’s no longer a baby. I’m nervous to try putting Q down at night without nursing him. I had hoped Hubs would be able to help me during this time, but I don’t want to wait three months until his cast comes off. Crossing my fingers that we get sleep this week….
I can’t believe that I have been a legal adult in this country for fifteen years, and I’m just now being summoned for jury duty. I hope they’ll honor my request to be excused. I don’t have any long-term daycare options. Why couldn’t they have summoned me years ago when it would have been a cinch to get time off of work? But noooo, they have to wait until I’m a SAHM with a fourteen month old baby and husband with a broken foot. Don’t they know there’s no time-off policy for full-time moms? There’s never a convenient time to be juror, but now? Really? Jerks….
Q’s started coughing again. I shouldn’t have taken him to the daycare at the gym this morning. But otherwise I wouldn’t be able to go to the gym at all! Not like it matters. Q cried when I left and didn’t stop. I didn’t even get through my warm-up before the daycare worker came to find me.*sigh* I’m going to have this post-baby belly forever….
I have to get my flight to Michigan booked. I’m nervous about flying with Q by myself. How will I pack all of our stuff into one bag? Maybe if I send my mom a small grocery list, she can go to the store for me before we get there. I hope one of my cousins has a pack-n-play and high chair we can borrow. I hope Q is happy on the plane. He doesn’t nurse anymore, so what if his little ears hurt? I’ll need to bring enough food on the plane for three meals. I need more arms….
I should be sleeping. But I’m not. I’m spinning.