After typing that title I had to look up harried for fear that it did not mean what I intended it to mean. It's pretty embarrassing to use a word thinking it means one thing but realizing the connotation is totally different. i.e. the time I told people I was "infamous" for my mad dancing skills. What I meant to say is I cut. a. rug. Not, I'm well-known in a negative way for my dancing abilities, or lack thereof. But I digress.
So the harried I am referring to is the disheveled, running from one place to another, forgetting essentials like extra diapers and um, food for my kid, because I've got a whole heck of a lot on my plate kind of disheveled. You with me?
I've been uber busy at work and have had a lot of commitments in the evening. It feels like the last two weeks have been run, run, run. Yesterday I worked, picked up my bundle of joy, transported her across town, and left her with my dear and gracious friend (Lindy, I owe you BIG time) and went back to work. While 12 hour days are more my husband's speed, I have had more days like this than I care to think about.
With a marathon day like that, I sometimes feel a tad overwhelmed at the amount of items that must be packed, chilled and toted along from place to place. Lake ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner with someone else yesterday. Her lunch bag was busting at the seams.
Like I said, not the norm but as of late, my life has been a bit crazy town.
So, if I think juggling one child and my schedule is insane, what will life look like with future children in the mix? When I want to be whiny about the present state of busy, I remind myself that we originally dreamed up a mondo fam of four or five kiddies. Can I handle life with that many school plays, sports nights, and PTA fundraisers? Oh my goodness, at some point I might be packing and cooking for a small army. I will be pumping milk for the next five or six years!
AND then I breathe into my paper bag, look in the mirror and tell myself: "you're pretty, you're smart, and gosh darn it people like you." and remember that I am getting a little ahead of myself here. One day at a time. One day at a time.
On a side note, but still related, I had a booger stuck in my hair most of the day yesterday. If that's not a mark of the harried mother, I don't know what is. BTW: I'm quite certain it was not mine.