Okay, so probably what I need is some chocolate and a glass (bottle) of wine and for my hormones to calm down (being a woman is aaaaaawesome!), but I can’t do that (bottles of wine being detrimental to my head and chocolate being detrimental to my waistline). I can go dancing, which I will do this weekend (for the first time in about a year) with some girlfriends, so that might take the edge off. If you’re out and about in Bellingham on Saturday night, please flirt with me. My ego needs a boost.
I’ve written and deleted this post today several times (all in 30-second increments between tasks!) because I just don’t know what to say. I hate to continue in the same vein and complain ceaselessly about my feelings of inadequacy; they are there, they are not going away. I can list them easily enough, the pressures I feel to perform well as a wife, mom, and in my career, the worries that keep me up at night. Though I am advised to cut myself some slack, it’s impossible to do so – there is nothing in my life that I can let slide any more than it already does. If I neglect my children, well, I won’t be able to live with myself. If I neglect work, several people will find their jobs in jeopardy. If I neglect my appearance or my housework or my marriage, one of the most important people in my life suffers.
It does some good, to vent in this space. I like to feel less alone, less isolated. But it certainly doesn’t lead to solutions, does it? I can only move on, try daily to be better and do more.
One of the stupidest things about being overwhelmed is that I still want more children. I know, right? Logic doesn’t even begin to play into this desire. How could I handle more? But I want more. I want to have another infant to cuddle. Not today, not tomorrow, but someday. I like to think that there’s an alternate version of me out there that has enough love and time and energy to give to yet another baby.
In the meantime, I’m going to ignore the workout of the day (while trying not to feel guilty about letting down the team and condemning my body to being flabby forevermore) and try to make time in between work, errands, dinner prep, housekeeping, and kids to buy myself some new shoes and a shirt with flowers on it. Charles always wants me to wear a flower shirt and is always disappointed that I don’t have one and I just want new shoes. Cheap shoes, but new nonetheless.
This dress has flowers on it – I wore it for Valentine’s Day.
But the best I could do today was a flowery scarf. Damn, I feel and look about a hundred years old.