It makes me chuckle (pitifully) that I posted those pictures yesterday because this morning, after a brutal night of Isa being up from 2am to 4:30am making all kinds of noise, followed by a concerned note from our downstairs tenant (who sleeps directly below the aforementioned cantankerous two year old), it was determined we would have to switch her bedroom from the back room to the front room. ASAP. So today, after 4.5 hours of very interrupted sleep, a full day of work and then two hours of parent-teacher conferences, I rushed to Home Depot on the way home, bought light blocking shades for the front room, installed them, and started taking apart Isa’s crib. By bed time, we had her crib and chest of drawers in the front room, and we’d moved quite a few pieces of office furniture to the back room. Ah life, it has such a fabulous way of throwing wrenches into plans.
I must admit, moving the rooms has me pretty upset. It isn’t just the amount of work involved (when I have absolutely no time to do the work–a combination that has brought me to tears several times) but the fact that moving the rooms around really messes with our plans for having another baby and where to put the nursery. And what’s really upsetting is not even that I’m annoyed we’ll have to move the rooms back if we have another baby, but that we might never actually even have to move the rooms. I can’t tell you how many times Mi.Vida clarified that we didn’t even know if or when we’d need the other room to be ready as a nursery and every time he did it sent a knife straight into my heart.
We shouldn’t be making plans based on having a baby in a year when we have no reason to believe we’ll have a baby in a year.
And he’s right. We’ve been trying for eight months, and it could be eight more months, or longer, before we need that other room for a nursery. There is no reason to make decisions now based on the possibility of needing one in the future. But it’s so hard for me to let it go. I’m planning my life around something that hasn’t happened yet, something that may never happen. Today was a really poignant reminder of that.
Today was also a poignant reminder of how horrible I feel when I get so little sleep, and how upsetting work is on a daily basis and how I can’t remember a time I’ve felt this overwhelmed for this long. I’m drowning right now, and there is nothing I can do to get my head above water.
Lately I’ve been spending my days just going through the motions. The underwater, current pulling me feeling is so bad most days I just try to get some oxygen and let the river take me where I need to go. I don’t even really think much about my life or what’s happening in it because, well, there isn’t much good to focus on.
I can’t find much inspiration in my own life so I’ve been delving deep into literature, more specifically YA novels. I’m listening to two different audiobooks at a time: one when I drive alone to work and another when I’m driving the 7th grader half of the week. With the 7th grader I “read” Wonder, which absolutely blew me away, and now I’m listening to The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, which is also incredible. These books provide the inspiration and meaning in my life. These books give me a hope for purpose and direction.
These books both have one thing in common (besides being incredibly well-written), their protagonists have been dealt tremendously shitty hands. Their lives are just awful, and yet they rise above.
And of course they do their rising above in neat little story arcs with rising actions and conflicts and climaxes and falling actions and resolutions. It’s all tied up in a nice little bow. And the parts you don’t see, the parts that are glossed over, the boring parts, well you don’t have to worry about them. You’re not subjected to them at all.
I like to believe my life has a nice, simple story arc that one day will be very obvious to even the untrained eye. But right now, I’m stuck in one of those skipped over parts, where nothing is happening. This whole month, or year, is one sentence fragment glossing over a crappy time, maybe only a few words doing little more than alluding to it. I’m living out those monotonous days that don’t drive the story forward but only fill time so things happen during a season that makes sense.
At the very best, I’m living the montage moments, that quick five second shot of a woman mixing her TCM herbs or checking in at acupuncture or swallowing her tears after her 8th grade math kids walk out or rolling her eyes, exasperated, when her daughter does something ridiculous. I’m living out those short moments, put to music, that rush through the part of the movie that no one wants to see, that only has to be alluded to.
I see it on blogs all the time, people revisit a part of their lives and those months are reduced to mere sentences. I’m living the slow months of one of those sentences. And then it took me x number of months to get pregnant with my second child… and then the real story began.
So here I am stuck in the mundane montage moments, just trying to muddle through, wondering when the plot will pick up again, wondering when something will finally happen.