(We totally sorted the garden, by the way. It was epic – over twenty bags of mulch.)
I have an addiction – and for once I’m not even talking about chocolate. I love stress. I love pushing my capabilities right to the edge and staying there. I can’t stop thinking of original ways to make life better – for my family, for my workplace, for other people – and it’s nearly impossible to resist an idea, no matter how much extra work it is for me.
I tell myself I want to work full-time for a few months – mostly just to see if I can – but I’ll be studying full-time at the same time. And of course looking after Louisette, with all the busy-ness, organisational complexity, and lack of sleep that entails. Am I on the road to giving myself a nervous breakdown?
I have plenty of options for where to take my life. Most of my income is extra for us (although we’ll need a lot saved if the next pregnancy is as bad as the first). But am I even capable of rest?
Today I worked a full day at the daycare centre, and I was genuinely enjoying myself for about 90% of the day, with a couple of stressful moments (the after-lunch rush is always a challenge), but I was pretty pissy about not getting an afternoon break. Which is sort of fair, because it’s hard work and – for someone with a spinal injury – increasingly painful over the course of the day. But I probably shouldn’t have been as pissy as I was – after all, who made me even go to work today (knowing I’d end up in pain)? But I can’t seem to help myself….
So, something to think about for me. And a lot of women (and a smaller number of men, I think). The biggest problem, of course, is if one teeny tiny thing goes wrong – I can’t take it. Because I’m already using 100% of my coping/organising/working/being nice-ability.
In Louisette news, we were playing inside when she went into the house and then tried to lock me out. Adorable and evil. Is she the perfect child or what?