It's never a good day when cleaning all three toilets is what puts me in a better mood.
I think I'm looking forward to the return of Real Life tomorrow. Phillip will go back to the office (and school on the weekends) and I will go back to some kind of routine. The kids are infinitely less beast-like when they doing the same things day in and day out, and I might get bored, but at least I'm not threatening to send someone to Time Out for the nineteenth time. Usually.
I frittered my entire afternoon away - I hate that feeling. I made this big To Do list, but nothing on my list was particularly urgent so I sat around, clicking through the internet, thumbing through the Sunday ads, reading The New Yorker. (I got a buttload of magazine subscriptions for Christmas. How am I supposed to read actual books?) But I put the magazine down and forced my eyes closed. I just felt so jittery and restless, like I had so many things to do, but I didn't quite know what those things WERE... and then I woke up feeling worse. I HATE taking naps.
Oh, and I printed out my NaNoWriMo novel. It's about an inch-thick stack of paper. There's got to be at least five worthy sentences in that stack, right? RIGHT? Woe. I think that angst is for another post.
For the first time in, oh, EVER, I was watching the clock, willing Jack to wake up already. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? I knew that he'd be up for a little walk around the block, which is what I self-prescribed for Mood Improvement. When I checked on him he was sitting silently in his crib, like a little boy in a horror movie. The silences and empty spots that kid can endure - hours alone in his crib, hiding in dark closets, SHUDDER. But I yanked him out of bed and jammed on his boots and his hat and let him dictate our route. I felt so much better when we came home that I actually apologized to my husband for taking my frustrations out on him earlier (even though, seriously Word 7, stop being a tool) and went upstairs to clean the bathrooms. Miraculous!
So now I'm feeling a bit better. Things were accomplished. The end. Also, I have tentative plans to drink meet up for happy hour with friends after the kids go to bed, a guaranteed mood-lifter.
I think I'm feeling goal-less. I never thought I was a goals person, really, until just recently when Phillip said wait, actually, you are TOTALLY a goals person, HELLO speed-novelist. I've thought about it a little, though, and what I think he means is I am a DEADLINE person. Kind of sort of the same thing, sometimes, but not always. I lost the baby weight well before my 30th birthday, but then? Meh. Pass the fries! Oh, and same with my sister's wedding. When I realized I'd packed on six pounds I pulled out all the stops to get them off by the wedding and I DID. But now? Pass the leftover tiramisu! And when I look at my "novel" I despair at the thought of ever beating it into shape. Will I have to wait for November 2010?
Maybe my list of resolutions should have been a list of deadlines. I'll get back to you on that.
In the meantime: I am ready. Monday can bring it.