Where Did All this Energy Come From?
Last night was the best night’s sleep that I have gotten in a long time. I slept deeper. I tossed and turned less. I only got up once to go to the bathroom. For some reason, even my kids didn’t wake up until eight o’clock. For the first time in a long time, I got up feeling rested.
Is that why today was so productive?
Honestly, I cannot remember the last time I got so much accomplished that didn’t involve out-of-town guests. I started with the normal, daily stuff: make beds, clean up breakfast dishes, put away all of the stuff that ended up on the floor while I was gone last night. But I kept going–and going. Like some deranged cross between Merry Maids and the Energizer Bunny. Laundry. Vacuuming. Mopping. Scrubbing toilets. Bleaching the kitchen cabinets (honestly, white cabinets with three little boys is like living in the seventh level of hell). I even, finally, decorated our Christmas tree (which has been up for almost a week now).
Beyond the flurry of cleaning, I also did dinner from scratch (not unusual), and made banana bread out of some bananas that were turning brown in my fruit basket (totally out of character for me–they would usually go right in the trash). I honestly didn’t stop moving all day long, except when I gave into N’s obvious need for attention and took some time to do flash cards and read Shel Silverstein poems to him.
My house is still nowhere close to perfect–especially the family room, where the kids were exiled during my flurry of activity. And, of course, some of my efforts have already been undone. But, after weeks of feeling a total lack of motivation to do much of anything, it really felt great to be so productive. I’m guessing that tomorrow I’ll be about as active as a toad.
For someone who thought she’d start a blog to have a place to record my experiences with this pregnancy, I sure don’t talk about it a lot. I’m sure a lot of it has to do with the fact that it isn’t “new” to me. I don’t have difficult pregnancies. At this point, I fear that I am turning into one of those people that drove me crazy back during our fertility struggles–I pretty much take the process for granted.
But I have definitely been noticing the effects of this pregnancy on my life more in the past week or so. For starters, at over 27 weeks, I have reached the point where my stomach enters the room before the rest of me does. Although, amazingly, someone I have known at my church since I was a teenager just realized last night that I’m pregnant.
Along with looking bigger, I am feeling it. I already mentioned the tiredness–both physically and emotionally. I’m also getting out of breath at crazy times (like walking up the steps from my basement, or making beds). My upper back is now joining my lower back in an effort to completely sabotage my daily comfort.
But the really telling stuff goes on in my head. This morning, I opened my refrigerator door and was hit by a feeling of panic when I saw a half-consumed bottle of orange soda. For a fleeting moment, I was convinced that one of the boys had cracked open the bottle of glucola waiting for me to get around to my gestational diabetes test. Then I remembered–I got a diet Orange Crush from a soda machine last night. Tuesday night, I was watching The Real Housewives of Orange County (I can hear your opinion of me dropping from here). One of the women had arranged for a couple’s massage with her fiance. I watched them being pampered and thought, “Man, I wish I could lay on my stomach.” How sad is that? My thoughts weren’t about the joys of a massage, or a wonderful evening of romance. I just wanted to lay on my stomach, too. Sad.
Earlier today (during the cleaning frenzy), W~ came upstairs with light sabers for him and C~ to “fight” with. I instructed them to take it to the family room. As they conducted their sword fight on the way down the steps, I heard W~ say “Obi Wan has taught you well.” Kids amaze me. Who would expect to hear a 3-year-old say that to his 20-month-old brother (heck, who would expect them to be sword fighting down the steps with one another–I defy all of the “experts” who claim that kids only parallel play until school age to come hang out at my house for a day).
Last night, we had our second youth activity to assemble Blankie Buddies. The youth leaders for the boys asked me on Sunday if I would mind if they participated with us (apparently, the boys were “missing” the girls). Wow, that made it interesting. I didn’t realize just how many Young Men we have. Honestly, we ended up with way more kids than we had things to do (especially considering the fact that I was still the only one who really seemed to understand what needed to be done).
The really bizarre thing was that, somehow, my table to embroider faces ended up being occupied almost entirely by 12 and 13-year-old boys. Um, yeah. Some of them did surprisingly well. The others–well, let’s just say that it may take me more time to undo what was “accomplished” than if I had just done it myself to begin with. These activities truly do test every control issue in my body. I spend a lot of time preparing for them, then things don’t get done exactly how I want, or how I would do them. I just keep reminding myself that this is a service project, and doesn’t have to always be done my way. The important thing is that the kids are learning to do things they didn’t know how to do, helping others, and having a good time. As long as I focus on that, I can be really happy about how things turn out (even while I’m stitch-ripping).