It's been a busy morning . . . attempted to "sleep in" all the way to 6:30am before getting up and swapping parenting duties with hubby so he could go to work. Then commenced kid-wrangling, drop off of the big boy and then home again to plop Sis in front of the TV and pound out some notes for work. Lovely. Can't quite count the number of Fridays in recent history with a similar pattern. After Sis had watched her show and I'd made it, oh, 75% of the way through work stuff, we ducked out into the rain and raked leaves. She believes she is being helpful when she "stomps" on the piles of leaves I'm attempting to move into the street . . . little turkey. Back in doors to fix lunch and clean the kitchen while she ate. I mean really clean. Another artifact of weeks and weeks of intense work, not enough time to catch up and NO desire to get my house spic and span.
And now I sit, hardly believing my luck that she is napping. My kitchen looks great and as long as I don't look at my feet and the mess that is my floor, I'm feeling pretty good. But I've got the blahs. The momentum is gone. I know I could fold laundry or buff our newly finished table or just about anything productive. But I don't want to. And I don't want to do anything else either.
I'm a little paralyzed by the thought that the in-laws and assorted other relatives are descending on our house next week. We'll have 6 additional adults and another kidlet in our house . . . I need rest. I really need to recharge. I have no idea how to do that under the best of circumstances let alone while hosting Thanksgiving weekend for my husband's family. Oy. There's the cleaning, the prep for large meals, the laundry, the not being the master of your own destiny cause you have to sort through the polite deferring to figure out what the heck people want and what they'd like to do!
As I reread my words, my therapist brain is chastising my pathetic self. I mean really. Get. It. Together. Just a few days ago I was optimistically thinking it would be a great Thanksgiving. Sure, I'd be overwhelmed but I'd find some way each day to do something I needed to relax. Hubby and I would check in with each other frequently and make sure that our own little family's traditions made their way to the forefront of the festivities. I blame work and the need to get some space and perspective. The pace has been so intense for so long -- the stories so gut wrenching that I need to decompress. Rushing from work into the domestic chaos that is raising small children doesn't allow room for this. A friend and I were discussing our different parenting approaches recently -- it is an acknowledged fact that I error on the side of being too careful, too watchful and too much of various other things as well. Hello, my name is Heather, and when it comes to my children, I'm a control freak. Perhaps I think that if I can create order and calm in my home and in my children's behavior, I will be able to manage the hurt and trauma of participating in my clients' stories.
As I suspected, I'm feeling a little self-conscience having dumped the contents of my head onto the virtual page. But I feel so much better! Purged. Ah . . . now to wake the little one and get the big one and keep on moving!