Ugh. I just woke up from a nap which should have been restorative, but instead has me frazzled and feeling like perhaps I've sent myself a reminder that I need to take a step back and evaluate. When your brain gets in the middle and sends you a message like this one, perhaps it's because you need to take a time out.
First, I woke up realizing that it was daytime, and I panicked because I thought I'd overslept, and therefore we'd be late getting Liam to school. Liam is at school already. Because it's 3 in the afternoon...and I took him to school this morning. Check one.
I woke up with my heartbeat doing flip-flops from sheer frustration. Why, you ponder? A dream. A dream in which I was so frustrated with anger that it was making me physically sick.
So what happened you ask? This is the beauty of Blogger...I can tell you all my dream and make it all better. Just like I used to tell my mommy my bad dreams and then I could go back to sleep. Only I don't think I'm going to go back to sleep. Another solution will have to do. Anyway. Back to the dream.
So I'm at school. And each of my professors has given an assignment that is due this weekend. And each of these assignments involves a boatload of research and/or prep work. So I meet up with a few of my friends in the hopes of working on it. My friends happen to be some of the girls I used to go to school with at the local university who are now enjoying further education while I am enjoying a third pregnancy. Naturally, we haven't seen each other in a while and we're feeling a bit chatty. So why study at the library? Someone has the brilliant idea to study at the mall. Where there is a ton of distraction. And I can't get anything accomplished. And deadlines are looming, and I'm starting to panic.
So I decide that maybe I might go and find a quiet table at the library. Only someone interrupts me. A boy that I don't really know, but I do know he has a crush on me (funny, that, considering I'm now approaching my 7th month of pregnancy and round as a soccerball). So he lures me away for a few minutes filling my ear with sweet nothings, and then I remember. Oh yeah. Got studying to do. So I escape and return to my friends at the crowded mall and realize that my backpack that was carrying my things has now morphed into several large plastic bags stuffed so full of papers, clothing, and other stuff that I now have to get back to my car...because it all needs taken care of. Assignments to be done...laundry to be folded...
I come to the realization that nothing is going to get done with all those people and noise going on, so I grab my plastic bags stuffed with stuff and bid my friends adieu while they protest that I'm a party pooper. On my way to the car, I decide that I need a bathroom break (I am pregnant after all), so I drag all my things to the bathroom. While there, the cutie pie who wanted to lick my ear off earlier decides that I need a little more help being distracted, and he's snuck himself into the bathroom, which is more like an old shower you might find at the beach with concrete floors and heavy vinyl shower curtains around the toilet stalls. Water begins to seep from around the potties with me none the wiser. I was brushing my teeth or doing something else and looking in the mirror (narcissistic much?) until I realize that the bags that contain my belongings are becoming waterlogged, and how will I get my homework done if it's wet?
So I realize the boy is behind it, and I give him a good verbal lashing and drag my things out of the bathroom. In the meantime, my oh-so-friendly friends have decided that I really don't need to leave and have somehow confiscated my keys. So I'm dragging my wet things across the lot and can't find my car or my keys.
I get on the phone with my hubby who is conveniently at home making dinner (which I usually consider a very helpful thing), but since my friends are being a pain in the butt, I'm begging him to come and rescue me and my wet things. He refuses, because, well, he's cooking, and shouldn't I just listen to them for once?
So I track down my friends and am basically wrestling with them to see if I can find my keys in their purses. I grab one friend's set and frantically hit the lock button hoping to locate my car, but no luck. I repeat the process with two other friend's sets with the same result. Finally, I tackle the boy and wrestle my keys from him. Bingo! I can hear my car's horn beeping from somewhere in the lot. I drag myself to the car and realize that my friends have hijacked my things and are now stuffing the wet stuff into the van willy nilly. Of course, they are coming to the realization that the plastic bags which once held my things but have now grown to the sizes of cars themselves will not all fit in my van. It is at this point, I think that I start crying in my dream. Someone (a woman, but I'm not sure who) sees me crying and starts laughing. "It's not funny, I say." "Of course it is," she responds. I am finding it hard to find the humor in the situation, so I call my husband again crying. He mentions that he's still making dinner, and I need to cut it out. But I'm never going to be able to finish my work, and it won't all fit in the van...and I'm losing control...It's at this point that I become hysterical and begin screaming, crying, thrashing about, and pitching "the big one" nelly, when thankfully, I woke up. Only I woke up in a panic. Because I thought it was morning...and I was late...
Ok, Freud. So what's this all mean? Oh, I could analyze this bad boy all day long. Could be that I've finally hit critical mass with the amount of things that I really need to do and feel like I have no way to get them all finished by the stated deadline? And that I feel like no one can help me, or that everyone is, in fact, being a hindrance? Could it all be so literal?
Take this upcoming weekend for example. A couple of weeks ago I went to Michigan for our annual birth network meeting and conference. I came away feeling pretty jazzed about what we could accomplish this year, as did our other NEO chapter leader. So I came back home and started making lists and working on tasks to get a few things done. Like our much desperately needed membership drive and resource guide. Which we've finally set dates for getting out. Which come very soon. Eeep!
In addition, this weekend is a baby fair, so I need to get things ready for that. Which means a lot of printing, brainstorming, etc.
And I've got a mountain of prep work to do for my final session of teacher training for K**aplan which is on the same day as the baby fair.
And I've got three months left until the baby comes, so I've been trying to get the house purged of excess crap in the hopes of making it easier to keep clean once the baby gets here (well, and because it really needed done anyway), and that has been an enormous task considering the amount of junk we've accumulated in the 8 years that we've been here, and the fact that neither of us is really great about pitching stuff. Well, one of us really has a hard time with it. And it ain't me. No room for that in this house, though...not with 3 kids, that's for sure!
Oh, and there's Sock Wars. I don't want to get assassinated right out of the starting gate (one sock down, one to go), on top of the fact that knitting is therapy! So I've got to get on that, too.
Thing is...I know I've got a ton of help. Hubby is FANTASTIC about helping with the kids and stuff so I can get my prep work done. He's pretty much had the kids every Sunday since I started teacher training, and some Saturdays, too, since I've had a couple other things on the weekend. The man does indeed cook dinner. More frequently than I care to admit, as he's the one working, and I'm the one who's supposed to be at home. He's also in the midst of trying to get an abstract sent off in the hopes that we might be able to go together to a conference overseas (oh please, oh please, engineering gods, make it so!) next spring. And he has a dissertation that needs to be done some time this decade so he can be Dr. Hubby. Poor guy. It's no wonder he doesn't have dreams like I do. Or maybe he does...hmm....
My in-laws are also fantastic about offering to help if we ask. They frequently take the kids if we're in a pinch on child care, and I know they enjoy every minute of it.
So what's my dealio? *shrug* Dunno. Perfectionism, perhaps? Because if any of you knows me...(and I know that some of you who are reading this truly do) I am a horrible perfectionist. I can do it all...and my way is the only correct way. Ugh. Really, I do need a good thumping.
Maybe it's time for me to call in the troops and delegate a bit. I've done that a little these past couple of days. The neighbor girl was BEGGING for some babysitting time, and knowing that hubby really needs to spend time working on his stuff, I agreed to let her come hang with the boys for a couple of hours so I could hide out in the den and work on stuff. Like this totally unecessary post. Okay. It is necessary. Needed to vent. So I could move on. And be productive. Right?
And this weekend I'll be rallying the birth troops to help with some of the other stuff. For now, I think I just need to hang. Thanks for listening. And if you've read this far...really, thanks.
I've got two other posts sitting in the queue with pics detailing some of my organization craziness so far. And more pics of the new insane kitty girl (still no Sundae...truly, I think she's disappeared for the long haul), and other things. It will all come....in time...