Sleep! Kids!

Sleep is just amazing. I am a new'ish woman today. Last night consisted of the following: glass of red, Indian food, attempt -in vain- to read the paper, melatonin just to ensure slumber, bed at 9:30p. Scene. I woke up at 7am (bless my husband), am not as sore as I feared, feel SO improved and am now in the midst of muffinpalooza because, to my dismay when I checked this morning, our freezer was devoid of even one muffin crumb. So, first up...spiced Seckel plum muffins. Next, ginger peach with Last Tango peaches, and after that, I'm not sure... Jack did make it to school but we'll see how long he lasts poor sweetie. I'm trying to keep my expectations at a minimum regarding the time alone I'll have this morning.

So, while I wait with eager anticipation for the first batch of muffins to emerge, I'll leave you with some cute new shots of the boys. I fall more in love with both when I look at these shots: Jack shaking hands at El's wedding, and Oliver in all his glory.

PS- Perhaps it's because my arm muscles cramped sculpturally, but I swear I have more definition today. Heh.

Binders Full of Women, Personal Space

Have you seen this new blog, Binders Full of Women? Hilarious and so quick (re both timing and wit). My favorites include:

Can we talk a bit about personal space? In my opinion, it is sacred, and in certain places, you just don't breach it. If you do, you're weird or need some socialization. In other instances, some space would surely be nice, and why the eff don't you want it too? Example 1. Oliver and I took Percy for a walk today and went to the ATM to deposit a check.  As I began to enter my PIN, I smelled a strong perfume and heard some breathing immediately behind me. Some freaky woman in black - I think there was some sort of feathered accessory- was standing RIGHT.THERE. Really? Who doesn't understand ATM etiquette? Lest you think you was from Mars, no. She spoke to my dog, calling him Little Beast in a weird, sing-songy American English.

Example 2: Before the previously discussed personal training episode, I was in the locker room putting up my bags and getting water. No one else is around. A woman walks in and which locker does she choose? Out of the hundreds available? The one directly under mine. Really? That's just effing weird, readers. Really strange.

Worked to failure

So I finally followed up on the complimentary personal training session I got when I joined the gym 14 months ago, and I am now less energetic than an elderly slug. Wow. It was definitely an enjoyable experience in the whole accomplishment, good kind of pain/exhaustion way, but the aftermath tomorrow is going to be rough. I also learned that while I remain slender, my fitness level has plummeted. I guess reading Us Weekly on the bike is really not challenging me much. Gawd, I am, literally, completely enervated. I was thrilled by the idea of tomorrow being the first day in a very long while that I seemed to have nothing on the books, but wham! I must have been insane to think such a thing was possible in the current clime that is my life. Jack came down with a headache and fever this afternoon, so instead of regaining any modicum of sanity and reserve, I will instead probably be ministering to a sick little boy. I love my darlings, but parenting sick kids is rarely fun or relaxing. Have I done something karmically wrong for which I've been tasked to pay now? Seriously, I feel like I'm on some Nazi tread-wheel and no one will let me off, despite my every effort to jump ship. I want to stop running; the thought of doing so feels all-encompassing at times lately. A visual might be the scene in The Hours where Laura runs away to the hotel to read, to escape, and the waves wash over her and she feels as if a cancer patient must after receiving a dose of morphine. I want to check in!

I guess, in essence, I feel worked to failure in the physically but also emotionally. I want to shed responsibilities as quickly as possible, but I don't feel I can. Which would I? How? They all seem critical in various ways. And I really don't think I feel that way because I'm a type-A person who has a slight tendency towards perfectionism. That's true, but life is asking more of me right now than I can give anymore, more than I want to give, more than I could even hope or want to perfect. Good enough is my mantra right now, and even that seems monumentally challenging. Have I mentioned that we leave for Chicago at 10am on Friday morning?

And with that, I just ordered take-out. With some sadness.