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Slogging Through Life
Casper just came up to me and said, "Here's some cake my sweet love." (It is pink play-doh cake.)
This aside, I feel lately like this journal should be titled the above, as I don't seem to be doing much garden-cultivating lately. The endless laundry (spit-uppy baby plus pee-prone 3 year old means I do about 6 loads a week, and that's with paper diapers), the round of dinner and dishes and eating the leftovers, how often can a freaking toilet need to be cleaned? (answer: more often than it gets cleaned, that's for sure) - life feels like a long trudge right now.
Partly it is the fall, the darkness and the rain the past few days. Partly it is the sleep deprivation, as the Dillo has been going 4 hours at best, and usually only one of those a night, and I am often up for the day at 5:30am following a wiggle-fest at 4 and a 2:30 nursing. Partly it is the stuckitude of mr. flea not being done, me not moving forward with a career (I made an appointment with a counselor about that - one of my work's less-touted but actually pretty heavily-used benefits is 6 free counseling visits for just about any reason, and I thought talking this out with a starnger - what I want in my life - might help). Partly it is an inability in me to truly savor and enjoy life, which I think is constitutional and nothing that anti-depressants can overcome. I'm not depressed, really; I'm just an observer of life, not a liver.
Ah well. This too shall pass, and we are all healthy and clothed and fed, with pink play-doh cake even.
This aside, I feel lately like this journal should be titled the above, as I don't seem to be doing much garden-cultivating lately. The endless laundry (spit-uppy baby plus pee-prone 3 year old means I do about 6 loads a week, and that's with paper diapers), the round of dinner and dishes and eating the leftovers, how often can a freaking toilet need to be cleaned? (answer: more often than it gets cleaned, that's for sure) - life feels like a long trudge right now.
Partly it is the fall, the darkness and the rain the past few days. Partly it is the sleep deprivation, as the Dillo has been going 4 hours at best, and usually only one of those a night, and I am often up for the day at 5:30am following a wiggle-fest at 4 and a 2:30 nursing. Partly it is the stuckitude of mr. flea not being done, me not moving forward with a career (I made an appointment with a counselor about that - one of my work's less-touted but actually pretty heavily-used benefits is 6 free counseling visits for just about any reason, and I thought talking this out with a starnger - what I want in my life - might help). Partly it is an inability in me to truly savor and enjoy life, which I think is constitutional and nothing that anti-depressants can overcome. I'm not depressed, really; I'm just an observer of life, not a liver.
Ah well. This too shall pass, and we are all healthy and clothed and fed, with pink play-doh cake even.
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Me, too, living the dream... :)
::looks around::
No Playdoh cake, though...
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More sleep please, Dillo!