Over the past few weeks, I've started several blog posts only to abandon them to my recently acquired ADD. Couple it with my OCD, PMS and mild PPD and I am a giant H-O-T mess of alphabet soup.
I am, however, consistent.
One day while fretting about my physical condition, I started the following post:
In recent months I've lost my hair, boobs, sleep and free time. And in return I've gained a lot of weight and guilt. Something about this exchange doesn't seem right. Instead of complaining about it I decided to harness the power I have to change the things I can. So we bought a treadmill. $200 on Craigslist -- well, $220 because my husband accidentally gave the guy too much and it was a pain in the ass to drive back and get it -- and it's in perfect, fat-burning, working order.
And another day I started musing about working from home:
I love working from home. And not because I get to see my kid. That's fleeting, minutes at time here and there. It's because with the hour I save in not showering and commuting, I get to spend 2 hours with my kid, work out, walk the dog, eat breakfast and be ready to sit down and work by 8:45.
Yet another day I was particularly frazzled and inspired by the Beastie Boys "Get it Together":
Between learning to go with the flow, managing a big job and a little baby, my ever-changing emotions, a household and some semblance of a social existence, I often feel my life (and head) meandering in random directions. Like a Beastie Boys song.
Everything feels so scattered, and I spend the majority of my time trying to make sense of it all. Often, I come home and go straight for Oliver's schedule to see how he did during the day. And my husband always stops me with, "hi, how are you doing, how was your day, love you too." You could say I'm so focused on figuring it all out that I forget the simple things. Like saying hello to my family.
In an upside down world that I can't control, I doubt everything. My ability to get my job done. Whether or not my husband loves me. If my child recognizes me. If I'll ever see the triangle of light between my thighs again.
In re-reading these would be posts I find that I am consistent is my quest to control things (and complaining about the fact that I can't). Every one of these posts is about taking back a life that was once so finely managed.
Which brings me to a conclusion. This, my friends, is the new normal. Buckle up.