I was just (and I mean just) complaining to a friend of mine over email that I’m stuck in this holding pattern of blah in my current life and I can’t figure out what it’s about. There are about 15 separate things that are stuck in limbo and it feels like all we’re doing is waiting for something to happen. There’s a few changes on the horizon, all good. There’s a few pieces of the puzzle that are being put together slowly. We’re up to our ears in projects and parties and parenting (oh my!) and now we’re waiting for some kind of footwear to drop. I just don’t know what that is. And I’m no good at waiting.
So I’m sitting here, sifting through the blah thoughts in my head and it hits me: BAM.
This is the exact point at which we decided to have another child.
Around the 14-16 month mark of Isabella’s and Annika’s lives, we decided to have another baby. And let me assure you, this was all it ever took. Fertile Franny over here can get pregnant in a hot second. Cycle one and done. That’s why there was a very mutual decision made that Ryan would cash in his surgery card & derail the baby train. And we have never looked back. There hasn’t been even a slight twinge of a desire to have another baby. We know we are done. We are very happy with our decision & feel like THIS is the family we were supposed to have, exactly this one.
So, what iiiiiiiiiiiis it that I’m pining for? Is it just that I have to adjust to this new normal? That I haven’t quite converted to living the life we have built? Whoa. Adulthood. When did you get here?
I know that there are a few things “in the works”. A few things we’re holding out for. There are many plans for the house that take time (and I’m no good at waiting), there is a huge financial hurdle we’re thisclose to jumping, and pacing this hall is no good for my fragile girl brain.
I find, especially in the summer, that it is all too easy to say yes, and that the excitement of what’s about to come overshadows the stress of what it takes to get us out the door. And I mean that literally. Ryan is working 6 day work weeks to get us over the summer hurdles for childcare, so that leaves just Momma to gather the needs and the wants for the day into a tight enough package that I can carry it and any number of children that should decide to have an epic meltdown when entering or exiting the premises. And yes, I’ve done this song and dance a million times in my 5+ years of motherhood. Doesn’t make it a stitch easier. True, the ends almost always justify the means…I rarely regret the outing and usually the Ladies are at least generous enough not to all cry at the same time;)
But is all this yessing just adding to the stress? I can’t help but feel like I want a day off from my life. That sounds so awful, but it’s the truth. What I wouldn’t give to just shrug it all off for 24 hours and forget that I am the one who decides what we’re eating for lunch, who gets punished for the hitting, how efficiently orders get processed at work, if we can make it through the rest of the week on that 1/4 bag of sugar, if I can handle just one.more.to.do. on my list… I would be glad to come back to it, this life of mine. I like it, it agrees with me…when it doesn’t overwhelm me. Which it’s doing right now.
Do any of you have this problem? Where you feel like your life has entered a limbo you’re unprepared for? Are you like me, Type A, who wants it all done and figured out yesterday?
And what about your transition from building your family to living that family’s life? Was that as tough a slide for you as it’s looking like for me?