I am bummed. I don't know if it's just one of those things, one of those weeks, I don't know what's really going on.
But I feel tired, and empty, and bored, and boring.
I almost never write about "things" when I feel this way, but I should. So I am going to just try to complain and grump without worrying about this post. Otherwise I might turn it into a cheesy pep talk, as is my tendency, and I just don't feel like a cheesy pep talk right now.
- I am not exercising my body or my mind.
- I am not reading anything. I am not reading anything (except for blogs, which are awesome, and I love, but I miss books, and my brain misses books).
- The few times I have tried to stretch, my kids jump on me wanting to play horsey or "Attack".
- The few times I have had 30 minutes when I could have done something, I've done nothing. The somethings I'm not doing? Going for a run, reading a book, stretching, brainstorming PhD ideas, writing a thoughtful blog post, cutting my toenails, napping... Instead I wash the dishes or fold laundry or check my email or catch up on blogs.
- I am not pushing myself to do anything challenging or substantial with this blog.
- I do not have any really close friends here. My one good friend, kind of by default though I love her anyways, is so caught up in her world-class stay-at-home mommy-ness that I can't discuss the things that are most angsting me out right now.
- What on earth am I going to do with my life? A Phd? When??? And a research topic would help, too.
- If kids only go to school for half-days in Argentina, does that mean that I or Macondo Papa can only work/study for half days? Until they are teenagers? If I'm honest with myself, can I really be happy with that? Can I do things? How can I reconcile my desire to be a present parent, and how that resonates with me, with my restlessness and feelings of what-am-I-going-to-do-with-my-life.
- Do I just need to be patient? Wait till the kids are a little bigger, until I am regularly sleeping through the night, until the Monkey is settled into daycare? Am I just in that in-between zone, when my baby is old enough to start to need me less and I am starting to want some more independence, but we're just not all quite there yet? Should I just relax and trust that in a year I will be more me, and my body and mind and future will still be there? Or do I need to take charge of my life, make some changes and start figuring out what comes next?
- Other moms read, they write thoughtfully, they enjoy social lives, they take care of their bodies, they study something or create beautiful things - all of this above and beyond the whole mom thing. I'm not talking about the supermom thing. I'm talking about being a whole person, and a happy person.
- I am at home with the kids all the time, but not doing anything particularly creative or stimulating or awesome-parent-y with them. Yeah, I pull out the plasticine, markers, coloured glue and all that. I read stories. When forced and nagged to, I pretend that my pterodactyl narrowly escapes attack after attack by the fearsome tyrannosaurus rex.
But I am not creating a magical childhood for them. Not most of the time. We don't go on many adventure walks, we don't do many projects, I am rarely the playful or resourceful parent I wish I were (that hurts so much to say, but I am trying really hard to be honest).
- Changing any of these things for the better will require energy, and I just don't have any. I am disappointed in myself.
I have no idea how to finish this self-absorbed rant, but I am not going to do it by recognizing how much good fortune and beauty I have in my life and how it is really, truly quite a sparkly, wonderful life, despite my occasional bouts of gloominess. Okay?