Climber Monkey

It's been a long week.

Really long.

My baby can pull himself to standing. He can creep along. He can fall on his head and scream. Over and over and over again.

And, with all this crazy climber monkey activity, we've got some sleep regression.

I am so tired.

I don't know if it's burn out, or depression, or just plain regular tired, but I don't want to do anything. I don't want to grocery shop. I don't want to work. I don't want to pick up or cook or get up and brush my teeth. My math is broken, my head is fuzzy, and I just can't think. I'm fogged.

I just want 8 consecutive hours of sleep.

Weary

I am tired. Really, really tired.

But! My house is clean, my baby is asleep, my curtains are hemmed, my quilt has three rows stitched, and I got a damned good deal on some diapers.

And, I cooked dinner.

And, beer. I have a beer.

So, all things considered, it could be worse.

All the control-freak notions--the feeling that I couldn't get things under control--have subsided considerably. I've streamlined, and pared down, and downsized, and decluttered. I'm organized and scheduled, and I feel like I just may have a handle on things.

And, I have homemade pie for dessert.

What sort of mother of an 7 month old should have time for baking a damned pie, anyway?

I'm freaking my husband out, though, with all this newfound tidiness and increased thriftiness and general vibe of self-improvement. I have lists. I have a calendar. I don't leave the dishes in the sink. I'm requesting a new bathing suit. It's all very strange. Or, maybe it's just summer.

Standing in the Way of Control

I feel vaguely out of control recently. Like things are slipping past me, and I just can't keep up. I'm 99% sure that it's not really a case of me dropping the ball, so much as it's a case of me being a neurotic weirdo.

The baby is clean. More or less. The house is clean. More or less. I am showered. The cats are fed. The bills are paid.

What is my issue?

I took a look at Fly Lady a few days back. Now, I'm not drowning in squalor by a long shot. Hell, I've got a baby and I still manage to cook every night and sew and work and find new music. But, still, I feel this need to contain it all. I want a checklist. I want a routine. I want, I dunno... to be a scary Martha Stewart Robotic Control Freak, or something

And, that just can't be healthy, right?

I'm a big believer in the notion that we can only control ourselves--I'm big on not nagging or manipulating, letting people be, not worrying that things are done my way as long as they just get done. But, apparently the control issue is sneaking up on me.

I need to just relax.