We’re well into the New Year, but I can’t quite seem to shake the holiday haze. Despite having had a good week to settle back into our routine, everyone’s sleep schedule is still off kilter and many of Colum’s programs are still between sessions. The result: a very happy and easily adjustable toddler and a frazzled mom. The truth really is that as long as he gets enough food, sleep and attention, Colum’s good to go. Having fallen behind in house work and finances and my writing projects (like this blog for one), I’ve completely lost focus and direction and am running around like some headless fowl. I know I’m not the only one. Here’s a good account of how getting back to a simple routine can make a harried mom happy.
I have three partially written blog drafts on my desktop, two versions of my resume half done, and scraps of paper with bits of prose scattered everywhere. I keep doing three quarter of the dishes, so my kitchen is never clean, and leaving heaps of clean yet crumpled clothes lying about. And the toys! Trying to sort out which toys Colum’s outgrown from those he still plays with and deciding what’s worth keeping and what to toss is a nightmare! Nobody told me that parenting meant so much sifting and sorting of toys and clothes and gadgets. And heaven forbid Colum should ever catch me trying to pack away an old rattle or push toy; it instantly becomes his most favoured possession and I lose all faith in my toy-sorting criteria.
So I’m taking a couple days to re-schedule my hours and I hope to find a few extra per week for work that doesn’t involve wiping jam off every available surface. Here’s to a happier new year in the coming weeks.
I put Colum to sleep tonight and tried not to look around at all. Even though my attention was firmly affixed to the new episode of Gossip Girl (such a guilty pleasure), it still felt like my home had been hit by a freakishly localized tornado. And then come under attack by robbers and vandals.
Last week I wrote about the importance of routine, and this week I can testify to the chaos brought about by ditching your routine for five days straight. Colum is fine, of course. Better than ever, in fact. It’s the state of my apartment and my own mental equilibrium that are the main victims here. It was a fever that kept us inside all day Friday. It then kept Colum and Dad home on Saturday (while I was at work). By Sunday the fever had given way to diarrhea (yay!) and a rash-covered back. On Monday morning, Colum’s spirits were returning (if not his appetite), but the rash had spread to his stomach and chest. Our doctor couldn’t squeeze him in for a couple days, but my internet research suggests this is probably a mild case of roseola and nothing to worry about. Still, it’s cold and snowy and he could be contagious, so we stay in. By today I am completely stir crazy. We head over to my parent’s home where I know my brother is recovering from last week’s U of T essay madness. We eat lunch and loll about and nap and snack and then come home and read and eat dinner and pull many, many books off many, many shelves. Looking up from Graham Greene’s The Power And The Glory, Colum says, “No pic-ers.” He then puts that one book neatly back on the shelf and we get ready for bed.
I need my days broken into bite-sized pieces, it seems. If we are doing something in between breakfast and lunch, then tidying up is part of the breakfast routine. When we just hang around, so do the dishes. And so does the laundry and the rest of the mess. A sick boy needs extra attention, though, and that’s excuse enough for me.
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