My Monday started at 2 a.m. this morning. Just woke up, and my brain started spinning. I tried reading. I watched the rest of an episode of OITNB. I finally fell asleep by reciting Our Fathers and Hail Marys.
And then M came into my room, twice. The second time he got into bed with me (I usually go to his bed to lay down with him, but I was too tired from having been awake for about 2 hours) and proceeded to squirm around until I told him to knock it off.
And then I woke up at 7:05 because I forgot to turn on my alarm.
I have a very busy week, and I am trying very much to take it one day at a time. After all, that’s how it happens, right? I am, to my detriment, already focused on getting to the weekend.
And on a day that started with thinking of All. The. Things I need to do this week, it wasn’t good to read this article from the NPR health blog.
I think about this often: how stressed is too stressed? What can I do to lessen my stress levels? If I can’t lessen them, how can I better manage them?
I don’t like saying I’m stressed. I don’t like saying “I’m too busy”. I really don’t. It sounds like an excuse.
But. I might be too busy and stressed.
This week looks like this:
Monday: Work, School Advisory Board meeting at 6:30. Now, obviously, I was foolish to express interest in being on the SAB, even though I am interested. Because this means I have to leave work, pick everyone up, put dinner together, and turn the evening over to a babysitter to manage. It means I had to hire a sitter in the first place!
Tuesday: Get up to workout, work, soccer practice for Flora, bath night.
Wednesday: Work. My stylist is coming over around 9 p.m. to do my hair. I kind of consider this an off night, but it may be late.
Thursday: Get up to workout, work, practice spelling tests, bath night.
Friday: Work, pick up Flora at soccer practice, pick up Kate at school, pick up M at daycare, turn children over to ILs to babysit for night, go out to dinner with my parents who are in from out of town.
Saturday: I don’t even know what is going to need to happen by Saturday. This is what I know: Flora will have a soccer game, I would like to go to the gym with my husband, and I am going to see the Afghan Whigs. This concert is pretty much the only reason I am hoping to survive this week without a breakdown.
Sunday: Somehow I have to get my mother and my children all in the same place. This sounds almost straightforward, I realize, but there are some complicating logistics regarding where my mother will actually be (at Dr. Bro’s house), whether or not she just wants to hang there, and how we will get around game day traffic coming or going.
Also, somehow, even though I noticed that we were out of milk yesterday, I never managed to either go to the store myself and get some, or send Dan to get some — plus, I didn’t shop at all this weekend, so the meal plan is a touch sketchy for this week. So in addition to starting this week at 2 a.m., we started it sans any kind of milk, which makes serving cereal for breakfast a little tricky.
There is also money to manage and bills to pay and a house to keep in fairly decent shape. I cannot wait until Dan gets back to putting the basement in order for the littles. They need their own damn space. I’m tired of managing their stuff. And, yes, we are teaching them to pick up and do chores and so on, but it seems to be a lot of repetition for very little gain some days.
Especially on a day where my living room was very clean for most of the day (because my children were otherwise elsewhere), and then completely trashed in about 30 minutes because they were home. That’s just ridiculous to me. Is it just me?
How do you manage stress and not sweat the small stuff so it doesn’t kill you?
Standing close to this band is my reward for getting to Saturday. That and drinks with my husband.