Unless I'm suffering from selective amnesia, this pregnancy is harder than Anya's in terms of morning sickness. I haven't vomited (I'm not a puker), but the food aversions are brutal this time. (And when I say that, know that I lived on cheese and crackers for the first three months last time around.) I have days in which I can maybe choke down the equivalent of one meal. So I also have headaches. And exhaustion is just par for the course.
Things have also been crazy lately. In a few days, my baby turns 3, and won't be such a baby anymore. The preparations for her celebrations (yes, plural) have just added to the hectic pace of my life. Today's pretty much booked from morning through bedtime, and I'm not convinced I'll get it all done. I have the possibility of pockets of free time over the weekend, but I can't count on them.
And this is how the last few weeks have gone. Occasionally I get a free afternoon on a Sunday, but most days I get perhaps a couple of hours of downtime, total. It's wearing on me.
So I was pretty cranky last night. We were folding laundry at 9:30, just so I'd have one less thing to do today. And I was snippy, and I knew I was being snippy, but I was just so tired and sick and stressed out that I could not stop.
All Anya wanted to do was play. But her play was undoing the work I was doing faster than I was doing it, so I snapped at her.
She kind of steered clear of me the rest of the night.
My time with this child is too short as it is; I don't want to waste what time I do have.
So I gave myself the next few days off of freelancing. Being short two articles this month isn't going to make or break me financially, and the extra hour's sleep this morning took the edge off the headache I woke with.
I need to make more of an effort to give myself time off. Yes, we need the money. We will always need the money. But I need to take care of myself, too. It's all too easy to let that slide until the damage is done.
No comments:
Post a Comment