A couple of nights ago, while eating M&Ms, working on my
laptop, and watching The Office I was suddenly overcome with an urge to
sneeze. Without a tissue in sight I knew
I had to prevent spitting out chewed bits of M&Ms all over said
laptop. I’m happy to report that I
managed NOT to spew out M&Ms.

But I did pee my pants. (Only a little.)

Apparently after childbirth I can only hold together one
muscle mass at a time. 

My postings have been erratic of late. Truth to be told, I
haven’t been feeling all that well. I am
not sick, per se, but I think I ran myself down pretty good during the pre-,
post-, and actual house move. That type
of thing where when you’re really
busy, when it’s the worst possible time to get sick, you don’t actually get
sick – all due to living by pure will-power – but then when everything slows
down enough for you to catch your breath and maybe get caught up on things
neglected during the busy period, that’s when your body gives you the old
F.U. 

My body has been telling me to piss off for the last couple
of weeks. Between this and peeing my
pants I feel like I’m falling apart all over. Oy.

In general, I’ve enjoyed getting older because I like seeing
my knowledge grow every day, my emotional maturity…um… mature, and the wisdom
that comes with experience, knowledge, and maturity. Added cash is a plus, too. Nothing like the financial security of the
old! Ha ha. (OK, I’m not that mature.) But the thing I’m really struggling with as I
get older is the friction between my will and my flesh. Simply put, I want to accomplish more than it
seems I have energy for… and it drives me nuts. Especially with writing. I start
off the beginning of the week strong and then poop out halfway through, only to
recharge (sometimes) on the weekend and start all over again.  I’m also trying to work on a novel and it’s
been even more erratic than the blog posting. 

What’s worse is that I’ve been having a creative spurt. I’ve got a backlog in my head of stuff to
write down (poetry, stories, posts) but by the end of the day, after the
parenting is done, and the chores, and the actual get-paid-to-do work, I’m
zoning out in front of the TV. Oy to the
second power. 

Inside I still feel 22. I feel like there is no reason why I can’t accomplish everything I want
to accomplish. I have always been able
to get a lot done.  More than the average
joe (at least in work settings) and it has always been due to my supreme
will. (Efficiency and a willingness to
learn has helped, too. Boy, am I
sounding cocky here.) My point being… I
know I am a Type A personality. I don’t
think I’m overly a control-freak, but I’m comfortable with the control issues I
do have. (Just like I’m comfortable with
my caffeine, chocolate, and allergy medicine addictions.) I used to be one of those chicks in a
mini-skirted business suit. I was used
to being the go-to person who could get
things done. Now… I am finally at a
place where I can get some personal goals accomplished, and a lot of the time I’m
just really tired.

Type As should never get old.

I think I need a vacation. (Are all the parents laughing with me?)

On a completely different note, I’m finding that now I’m two
plus years past Lamaze class I’ve forgotten enough that I haven’t added
anything to The
Things They Don’t Tell You in Lamaze list for ages. So, new moms out there, I need your
help. Check out
the list and send me your additions. Otherwise, I’ll have to get knocked up again. And I don’t think having a baby just for blog
material is probably a good idea.  Ya know?

 – wg