The Art of Doing Nothing

Oddly enough, having a child has taught me how to relax. I spent the weekend rolling around on the floor, taking walks, romping around the park, going to breakfast and playing candy crush (damn it, I swore I never would). Because I had to. This is what you do when you have a child, you spend time with them. And that time is spent having fun and taking care of them...same thing if you ask me.

Prior to having a child, I would be cleaning, doing yard work, running a multitude an errands (some of which I probably made up simply to fill time), and in general just putting checks in boxes. Of course I also would have been sleeping in, going out to dinner and drinking more than I should, but I've already reconciled that these activities are going to have a take somewhat of a back seat for a little while. Well maybe not the drinking.

These days, I don't have that same sense of having to knock out a to-do list every weekend, because it simply will not happen. And through acceptance of the situation, I'm a little more relaxed.

That said, I did do a few things around the house -- vacuumed (to get the crap off the floor for when Oliver is crawling around), laundry (because this never stops with an 8 month old), and went to the grocery store (which was an educational trip for my child). But during nap time, instead of a) updating the baby book, b) finishing baby-proofing, c) working out, or d) working, I played candy crush. Productive. I was beat from rolling around on the floor.

So it's not really "nothing". Just a different kind of something.

What's One More

I thought I was pregnant. And last week I learned I wasn't. While there was some sense of relief, the stronger emotion was disappointment. Yes, disappointment. If I had been pregnant, my children would have been 16 months apart. Which is like running a never-ending marathon with asthma and a broken leg, blindfolded.

But nonetheless, I'm ready. I loved being pregnant. I love raising Oliver. I love children, all the craziness that comes with it, and I want them all over my house. This coming from someone who very seriously considered a childless existence more than once. My husband is incredibly lucky we waited to start our family because I am fairly certain I would have had a suburban full if we were a little more spring-chickeny. But I'd like to be able to get down and up off the floor while playing with my kids. Just seems like a necessary requirement.

Some people thrive with high levels of activity. I'm one of them. Productivity peaks when I take on more than I can handle. Oddly, I enjoy it. I'd rather be ridiculously busy for short periods of time than just chugging along, growing more bored with each easily accomplished task. So it doesn't surprise me that I'm ready. My husband, quite possibly a different story. You may think me insane, but I'm all about efficiency and we're already knee-deep in baby shit so why not knock it out all at once over the next three years?

It's time to get busy! Pun intended.