I’ve been rocking an awesomesauce (read: NOT) big toe situation that’s kept me home from my morning Barre class the last couple of days, and unable to take Miss Coda on a walk.
It’s all part of the injury I sustained in January (ping pong table collapsing onto my foot). It ain’t pretty and it sure ain’t fun.
However, it kind of turned into a blessing in disguise over the past two days since the doctor had to remove some of my nail (ouch; tender; the massive needles were NOT fun) because it forced me to be home a bit more.
The hubby and I have been burning the candle at both ends for the past few months. So often, I sit (or run around) and wonder why things feel so exponentially busier and more exhausting these days, and I’ve boiled it down to a few things:
First: sleep (or lack, thereof).
Despite (or maybe because of?) life’s insanity, I can’t manage to close my eyes before or around midnight most days. With a 6 a.m. daily wake-up, that’s just not enough shut-eye.
I’m not sure there’s a solve for this, but it’s certainly a major part of the problem.
Second: PUPPY.
Man oh man do I love my Coda girl (and, thank heavens, the feeling is wildly mutual). And as someone who never longed for or planned on having a dog, this has been a Major Life Event to find myself so wildly in love with the little nugget.
That said…I did some quick math yesterday, and just making the roughest, way lowball estimate, I’ve added at least an hour of direct time responsibility to my day because of her.
And that’s seriously bare bones of feedings, potty breaks and associated cleanup, and a basic walk. If I truly factor in alllllll of my interactions with her, loving on her, playing with her, blah, blah…it’s just a LOT of time.
Now. Of course, I didn’t magically come up with 25 or 26 hours in a day, so the truth of the matter is that other things in life have fallen by the wayside. And, of course, I’ve sacrificed some of my personal cup filling things in order to care for this little pup of ours.
There’s definitely a push/pull of positives and negatives along this front, but there’s certainly no arguing the fact that Coda puppy has added to the busyness and exhaustion of the past few months in a major way.
Thirdly in the Why Am I So Tired? bucket: these three crazies (pictured here, in a photo from exactly two years ago):
Looking at that picture, it’s wild to see how they’ve grown in the past two years.
And though they’re maturing and evolving in a way that physically lessens some of my mothering burden, the emotional burden of raising them at this stage is much heftier.
It takes so much out of me to navigate emotions and nuanced social interactions and homework (heavens, the homework!) and their livelier social lives and extra-curricular commitments.
Not to mention the fact that we’ve taken on all these house projects in the past few months—including room refreshes for the three of them as their size and age and needs have changed.
Parenting never gets easier, but it evolves every, dang day. And we just so happen to be in a phase (perhaps this is a never-ending, forever phase, ha) that feels extra-demanding.
A neighborhood friend with three kids once told me she didn’t understand why she couldn’t get her act together like some of her friends with two children. Until it struck her how much more there is to deal with, when raising three.
To be honest, when they were young, going from two kids to three kids only felt fractionally busier (its quite possible that I’m romanticizing the challenge—or suffering from post-traumatic child-rearing amnesia, ha). The crazy in the household just bumped up by a percentage.
But, now.
Oooooh, man.
Now, I’m forced to remind myself that each child is a whole other human to raise.
A whole 100% of a child to manage.
So the difference between two kids and three kids is substantial. Exponentially substantial. At this age and stage, it sometimes feels a thousand percent harder.
Luckily, I’m obsessed with my three crazies, and so grateful and blessed for all three of them—even on hard days or during hard stages. It’s just helpful to remind myself of the mothering load and why it sometimes feels heavy.
Lastly, in the exhaustion bucket: house projects.
It’s absolutely true that the hubby and I like to tackle these things in waves, for better or worse.
I never (ever!) lose sight of the blessings involved in even being able to tackle house projects, as it always requires time and/or funds. So please don’t mistake my acknowledgment of the burden of it with any sort of whining or lack of awareness that we’re blessed to be doing any of these things.
But much like a wedding and the happy stress it brings, it’s complicated and challenging to work in any sort of above-and-beyond projects into the craziness of everyday life, and I’m certainly reaching the point when I’m READY to stick a fork in it all.
Blessedly, we’re currently finishing up Chica’s much-needed room refresh, and then anything left is just tiny odds and ends.
Again, I’m so grateful, but it’s certainly been a cause of some of the exhaustion.
Now. Circling back around to the toe injury and the forced time at home that it’s afforded me…
Chica has to be at school very early all week (and most of next week) so I’ve offloaded all three kiddos slightly earlier than usual.
Which meant that, at 7:20 a.m. this morning, I crawled back into bed like the wiped woman I am, and when the hubby saw me all curled up there, he also crawled back into bed, and the two of us fell into a coma for another little bit before we had to rouse and get our acts together.
I have faith it won’t always feel this overwhelmingly chaotic, but I also have faith that this season of busyness is forewarning me to take it easier this summer than we have in the past.
Perhaps that’s part of the life lesson being taught, here: work hard, play hard…rest hard?
Something to consider.
Okay…sending this one off with an unattractive picture of my sad toe (from a distance, so it doesn’t scare you too badly).
Happy Hump Day, peeps!
We’re more than halfway there!
More mañana.
Over and out.
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