Here I am...3 a.m....wiiiide awake. I guess that's what happens when you go to bed at 8. What can I say? I'm sleepy. I use the word sleepy because the word "tired" is reserved for a whole different level of working nights -sleep deprived horror (if you ask me), and I won't ever use that word lightly again. I figured out that I have been working nights in some capacity for six years. Really? Well then I suppose it's about time that I move on. Great. Check. Done.
I really do like my new job. It's very different kind of work for me. But I like this type of nursing, and it definitely suits my family life right now. It's a very busy place though. I suppose that's the way it'd feel, after sitting many many nights on my rear waiting for a patient to mosey through the double doors wanting to deliver their baby. My legs throb at the end of the day just like they should, and that's the way uh huh uh huh I like it.
I feel like I'm finally coming out of a fog. I want to do things I like again. I remember what I like again. I have the energy and will to take care of myself a bit more. And while I'm still trying to get used to all this damn traffic that seems to be present during the day....(I'm used to clear roadways at night!), I'm good to go. Plus I love filling up my new purple thermos with coffee. It reminds me of my Dad's thermos, though, his wasn't purple. I totally get a kick out of pouring coffee into the little thermos lid though. It's the little things.
In other news, besides my ridiculous work giddiness, the S word is descending on our house again. That's right. Soccer. Sophie wants Steve to coach again, and when she says Steve, she also means me. But I do have to give Steve the credit here. Even if I coordinate practices and games and help with the practices and get the kids to and from, I still refuse to be out running up and down the field with a whistle. Steve will do that part? Perfect.
Even though Olivia has transitioned beautifully into gymnastics now, we miss seeing her play soccer too. She misses it a bit too. So, I'm breaking my one activity only rule, which I already broke to allow for sports and girl scouts, because Girl Scouts are awesome, and am now allowing two activities per child, but only for a limited time until Eli is big enough to be in something and that means there's no way I can juggle 6+ activities per week. Please. I'm not super mom and anyone who thinks this is easy is lying. I've recently gotten a glimpse into what it's like to get home later in the evening and it aint pretty or easy. It's rushed and busy and exhausting at times. I had to hang up the phone with my mom last night after already asking to call her back once prior because my hands were full and then having to hang up the second time saying, "I think I have to many kids."
I'm clearly joking here...I love my babies. But it's possible I'm at "good-Mom" capacity. Best be maintainin' for a bit now...
In other news...Eli the great has transitioned well into the world of daycare. That's right. I finally let go. With the end of nights came the end of being able to stay up with Eli each day instead of doing daycare. Let's just say, it was time...I was as ready as I was ever going to be, and I'm super grateful for the chance I had to be with him for so long. I'm moderately neurotic at daycare still. I call during the day. What? Don't judge me. I called yesterday morning to make sure they knew I had an extra paci attached to the bag, and that Eli should eat prunes today because he needs to poop. Then I realized they already knew where the paci was and I had already told them to feed him prunes, so I apologized to the laughing daycare girl on the end of the line and hung up. She's always so gracious though. She always says, "talk to you soon." Yep. You will. I told them I want him to be clean. No daycare snot, boogers, and caked on food. I haaaate that. Chapped cheeks, drool everywhere. Come on. I may be living in a dream world, but I like it here in DreamWorld, and I choose cleanliness. So I bring 19 outfits per day and ask that Eli is changed when he's nasty. Other than that, I think I'm an ok daycare mom. Maybe? Maybe not. Eh.
Anyway, the long and short of it (whatever that means), is that we're adjusting well. I couldn't be happier with things, unless they'd let me bring Eli to work every day....but other than that, things are pretty peachy. My big girl turns 8 this weekend. Sigh....8? She asked the other day, how old she'd be in 8 years. I told her to do the math, 8+8. What was it? 16. 16??? I looked at Steve in terror. You mean, the equivalent of her total lifespan thus far, repeated once more, one more SHORT, extremely FAST, flying by time of 8 years and I have a 16 year old?!
WOE IS ME.
Better hold on to these days. Time is flying.
