Worked to failure

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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.

Three day weekends

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I've not had any assistance in the childcare department since last Wednesday and neither boy had school today. Perhaps it goes without saying, but I am fried, bored and over it. I'm sick of school holidays, and cannot wait for one regular week; that also includes me not traveling. I leave at 7:50am this Wednesday for my sister's stateside wedding in Louisiana, we return Sunday and T and I leave the next Friday for Tom's cousin's wedding in Chicago. I just want to stay put and have the kids in school. I am starting to twitch with desperation for a schedule on which I can count. For time to take a breath. It's cold and drizzly today, so the boys and I spent the morning at a suburban mall because a few errands simply demanded it. Jack insisted upon wearing full cowboy regalia including his boots and spurs, and after three -albeit fun- hours, I thought my head would explode if the metallic clinking continued. But we got a lot done, ate out -Jack inhaled an enormous amount of Middle Eastern food; truly, it was remarkable because he resembles a tall pencil- and I was Kool & the Gang until the ride home when apparently my patience level hit E for empty suddenly and severely. Shite. I'm not sure any cooking will happen today, and for dinner, there are too many great leftovers that must be enjoyed.

Send me good vibes dear readers.