Family Time | 31
656
post-template-default,single,single-post,postid-656,single-format-standard,do-etfw,ajax_updown_fade,page_not_loaded,boxed,,qode-child-theme-ver-1.0.0,qode-theme-ver-9.2,wpb-js-composer js-comp-ver-4.9.1,vc_responsive

31

31

Tomorrow I turn 31.

I just feel so tired lately. It could be because I haven’t been eating right. It’s hard to find time, and I’ve been picky lately. Skipping meals. It’s no good, because then I just feel drained, like I ran out of gas. Henry deserves better. I wish I had more energy. A good night’s sleep wouldn’t hurt, either. He’s teething and has these early-morning terrors where he just inconsolably screams. I know we could be better about what they call “sleep hygiene,” not caving to his wishes, but anyway, he’s still nursing a few times a night and lately he’s waking up early, too. It takes a lot out of me. I’m pooped.

And that, I guess, is kind of just where I am at 31. If I had the brainspace to zoom out and look at the big picture, I think I’d be happy. But not only in family life, but also in my work life it has felt like I’ll just never catch up to this moving train. There’s always more to do than I have time for. There’s no such thing as doing something fast. Any time I try, it’s mediocre work and needs to be re-done. It seems like I’ll never get in front of this thing and have a minute to evaluate, fine-tune, revamp, organize. It’s just always a race to get it done. I feel all over the place with it. I could use an extra workday just to line things up.

But I guess if I look at things as if I were someone else, I’m all right with my life. It’s busy and I’m exhausted, but I like who I am in the community. I like my friends. I like my family. I’m proud of the things I’ve accomplished. I feel like I’m doing pretty well for the age I am. 31 doesn’t seem like much of a big deal in that way.

I’m feeling really bummed about tomorrow, though. We’re having a party next weekend so I probably won’t see any family this weekend, and Cory has to work from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. and so I’m solo with Henry. The logical side of my brain knows that it doesn’t mean I’m unloved, being on my own for the day. It’s just how it worked out. That’s sweet, in a way, to spend the day with my boy. But it’s a lot of work, too. He’s a busy guy, always on the go.

And I’m just so tired.

Comments

comments

Share & Follow!

Facebooktwitterredditpinterestmail
No Comments

Post A Comment