Too many things to do that I just don't wanna...

I have a huge stack of "thank you's" from my daughter's first birthday party that have yet to be mailed, several still to be written, and laundry - clean laundry - seems to be everywhere in my house except in the places it belongs. My house looks like it was hit by a cyclone with a warped sense of humor. I finally got an article published today, but it is the first in a month and it took forcing myself to sit at the dining room table for two hours to get it out.

It is so strange: I don't know if it is just me, but is seems whenever I am successful in one area of my life (ie. my present focus on working out and weight loss) I drop the ball in other areas. I don't know if it is just a lack of discipline or my undiagnosed ADD, but while I am a great cook, have been cutting fresh produce and making great meals, logging my food (except this weekend which I have now declared an almost unabashed wash) and working out, it seems virtually impossible to get all these other things accomplished. I should be writing and publishing, I should be working harder than I am to find a job, I should be, I should be, I should be....

Ack. I am sitting here, writing this, watching my husband industriously folding baby clothes and I just want to sigh: the batch from last week is still sitting half in and half out of the basket at the top of the stairs.

At some point, I think you just have to forgive yourself, and hypothetically I accept that even if my deep-seeded guilt does not. My house is messy but my friends all know I love them; my laundry is wrinkly but my kid knows I adore her and my husband's lunches are getting made. The fish are even being fed. And today? My cousins read my blog and said nice things. Today I'm feeling like maybe I'm enough... well, maybe almost enough. I still think I have a psychological laundry problem. :)

ACK...Still awake!

I am sure I must have at least been dozing earlier when I heard the kiddo crying over the baby monitor. I bounced up, ran to her room and sure enough the baby was standing up in her crib, crying, looking accusingly at the light coming from her closet. Anyway, calmed her down and put her back to sleep but now I've been awake for over an hour!

I've checked email,Facebook,Twitter and have even gotten a new high score on Brickbreaker - the ghostly light of the crackberry casting odd shadows on the head of my sleeping husband: my brain is in "on" mode and will not shut off.

My mother would suggest that I get up and clean something; this little device has thus far prevented such silliness but not sure how long I can really hold out. Even the pug is snoring soundly on my feet: my ankle is vibrating!

So, as I lay here, blogging in bed in the darkness I've gotta wonder - what the heck ever happened to counting sheep?! This modern age is a little nutso - only thing I've not done is text my friends to see who ELSE can't sleep!

OK...I give up. Goodnight world - or rather good morning. Goodbye for now, Crackberry. I think I am gonna try a book.

confessions of a would-be career gal

Ok. I have a confession to make: now that I'm a bit over the "lost my job" mind games and self-pity (I acknowledge openly there has been some of that) I'm really kinda digging' the SAHM thing. I know I shouldn't; I can't really afford it financially and I really do feel I have something valuable to contribute to the work world - but right now I'm truly enjoying being with my baby, the pug, and even the cooking and cleaning!

While I am in no danger of becoming the next Betty Crocker, I admit feeling a bit conflicted. I feel like I'm "supposed to" being going crazy at home, and while I do admit to some isolation -I'm also not feeling the ridiculous amount of stress and anxiety. I am enjoying the simplicity of things - I am productive - I write, I am still looking for jobs etc but also working out and walking - really walking - for the first time in a year. I feel a bit like I am finding myself again in the midst of all of this.

So yes, I know I need a job and have no intention of scaring my husband otherwise - but I would not trade for the world this time I am getting with my ever-changing little girl. Today, I am content...and even happy. The career gal in me winces a little, but the earth mama rejoices.

Puggy update

BTW - Loki the Wonder Pug is back to his old self, has been seen by the vet, and given a clean bill of health. He's back to stealing the collanders, demanding attention, and generally getting into all the puggy trouble he can. I could not be more relieved!!

Up to my eyeballs in appetizers

I have a tendency to over-promise but I hate to under-deliver. I promised to make both bruschetta and a pasta salad for my sister's daughter's 2nd birthday party today, and it makes me laugh a little when I go back and look at how I handled such things.

Rather than buy the pre-made stuff, I spent about 3 hours last night hand-chopping roma tomatoes, peeling whole garlic cloves, and snipping my own fresh basil to make bruschetta. Why? It's actually pretty silly I suppose but I bet I am not the only one: my mother is going to be there and I want her to be impressed with my cooking skills. For whatever reason, even at my advanced age, I am still trying to impress mom. Mom, I should mention, does NOT impress easily.

The thing is, the approval rating I think I am going for is not likely to be given. I *know* I'm a good cook; I do it pretty naturally and have a good idea of what flavors will go together well. Why am I not just comfortable with that? Years and years of training, methinks.

In any case, I have several hours to go and the food is actually prepared and ready to go. I even (for once) have the present packed and ready, and have sent the husband off with baby to grandma's for an hour so I can take a real shower and focus on my own appearance as well. I am going to call it a win...and try to let go of the results for once!

the ramifications of guilt

How it is that I'm blogging, under covers and next to a sleeping husband to the sound of a snoring pug comes down to one terrible word:guilt. It haunts me.

I mentioned in a prior post that I dropped my pug the other evening while trying to carry both him and a baby. I was in pain and exasperated-and frankly upset that I'd been yelled at, but what I didn't mention were the pained yelps and the accusing look from my dog when he landed.

I can say it was him or the baby; I can say I could no longer carry them both. But the fall hurt my dog in some fashion and I think he is holding it against me.

My pug has been know to hold it for 12 hrs - he does not, as a rule, ever poop in the house. That night however, he left seemingly strategic surprises for me in both my daughter's room and the kitchen. While he seems to be walking fine and has been given extra treats and trips outside, he still does not seem the same. Even while I'm petting him I get the sense I'm either being given the cold shoulder, or that my pug is sad. And I am miserable thinking about it.

A dog is just a dog and a cat just a cat, but when I feel guilt it is the pure and unriddled Catholic kind that burns like hellfire and overtakes your dreams. It's gonna be another long night:while the pug is snoring away I am pretty sure I will not until I am absolutely sure the pooch is ok and that he's forgiven me...and then maybe I will be able to forgive myself.

Free food to help fuel your life and balance your checkbook with Kraft at Jewel from 8/7-8/23

Free food to help fuel your life and balance your checkbook with Kraft at Jewel from 8/7-8/23

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