The Game

The Game

Has it really been almost a month since I’ve blogged?  Doesn’t seem right, because I blog in my head all the time.  The time Kai got invited to a Birthday Party on a Sunday Morning, and my lesson plan for teaching about the Sabbath to 14 year olds.  The joy and also the stress of Mako the Dog.  Holy Week.  Blah blah blah.  All in my head.

I was telling Andrew last night that in my 20s Adulting was this fun game, and I knew I didn’t have it all figured out, but it was an interesting, engaging, challenge.  I guess I figured I would, you know, eventually figure out how to Adult.

And now, my 30s, it’s just…a game that cannot be won.  An unwinnable game.  There’s only losing less badly.  You figure stuff out, and then a few months later it doesn’t work anymore, so you figure it all out again.

I have moments of great joy and happiness, of true peace and love, nay of contentedness…but I don’t think anyone would look at my Adulting Game right now and think “yeah, this girl’s a contender!”  Nope.

The drama of laundry

The drama of laundry

I am line-drying for the first time this season.

No wait, that’s not true, I put Isaac’s sheets out on the line one sunny, windy, barely-above freezing day in February, because his tween-age boy funk was just so strong I felt it needed all of mother’s nature’s angry winter wind to beat it out.  It was a bright, blue-skied, day and my hands are still cold from shaking out and putting the wet sheets on that line.  They didn’t dry all the way, but mostly, and they did smell amazing, and yes, we do think they froze a little out there and we had to toss them in the dryer a bit to put back on his bed.

But today, I am line-drying for real.  A whole load, and just because I’d rather use the line than the dryer.  It is in the low 50s and partly cloudy and much more humid than that February Day and I don’t know.  I’m apprehensive.  The ground below is so muddy, it’s a swampy mud pit, and I’m grateful I load our line from the second story deck and didn’t have to walk in that gross lawn.  But what if something falls? I worry, even though I have never lost an item of clothing off that line.

And they say it’s not going to rain today, but it’s been such a wet, sloggy, muddy, damp, end of March that I can’t quite believe it.  The existence of clouds in that sky makes me nervous.

Still, I was out on that deck putting my clothes out at 6:45am this morning, listening to the birds and watching the sunrise play off of Rainbow Lake in the distance, and that was really good.  Even if my clothes don’t dry and fall in the mud, it felt really good to be cautiously optimistic about the weather.

Now to get in the habit of putting a load in the washer at night, again…

So tired, tired of waiting, tired of…zzz

So tired, tired of waiting, tired of…zzz

Great googly moggly, I’m exhausted.  Here’s the conundrum: I have to get up as early as 5am and no later than 7am every day of the week.  It’s just the stage of life I’m in: between getting kids to school and me to various works and church commitments, that’s the wake up window.

And then kids are going to sleep later than they used to – bedtime is now 8:30pm, with them truly down and settled around 8:45pm.

I’m a gal who needs 7-8 hours a night to feel like I can function.  Sleep.  It’s the best.

Counting back, that means I need to be asleep from 9pm to 11pm on various nights.  Because I’m an insomniac, having different bedtimes on different nights is hard for me – makes me less likely to get sleep.  Responsible Erika says we should always be asleep by 9pm, then…which means starting my bedtime ritual around 8:30pm…which is the same time as my 6 year old son.

Indignant Erika doesn’t like that one bit.  So, I stay up.  I have one quiet hour and a half with Andrew, then we go to bed.  I’m asleep around 11:30pm.

Those of you who are counting on your fingers now realize this means I am never getting my 7-8 hours, and on some nights I am only getting 5.5.

I’m.  SO.  TIRED.

Yes, I can shift that back to starting for bed at 10/10:30…but it’s still not quite enough.

I’ve been kind of ignoring the issue, hoping it was just this pocket of time and when we move to the next pocket of time, the issue would resolve itself…but it doesn’t seem to be the case.  Also, looking ahead, Isaac’s buses are only going to come earlier (summer school has an earlier start than regular school) and earlier (high school starts 90 minutes before middle school).  If I’m waiting for this pocket of time to change, well, it’s a really big-ass pocket of sleep deprivation.

UGH.  Parenting oneself STINKS.

I’m considering just going to bed at the same time as the kids until I feel caught up, and then assessing.  I make better decisions when I’m not a zombie.  Indignant Erika isn’t thrilled with the idea, but Sleepy Erika is Cranky.