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.
