The emails have started trickling in again…
I have to travel to ____ next month.
Do we have anything scheduled the first week of ____?
Which days would you rather I be gone – x or y?
They tell me Tahd’s busy travel season is upon us again, and I feel like groaning a little bit on the inside. I love that my husband is a hard worker, and I love that my husband loves the work he does. I especially love the opportunities his job has afforded us, namely, the chance to tag along to some locations we otherwise wouldn’t have visited.
I think it’s mostly Jude’s sleep that keeps me feeling super anxious. His daytime sleep is hit-or-miss, and I wake up with a little anxiety every morning thinking about what the day is going to hold. Most days hold a lot of crying. You’d think I’d be used to it after almost a year, but I’m just not, and being the only adult around for it is crazy-making for me. Take today, for instance, when I texted Tahd the totally calm and realistic statement that I was in the second level of hell. Sometimes, I wonder what it must be like to be Tahd and get my random, melodramatic texts. Entertaining, perhaps? Anyway, Jude’s better than he was, for sure, but neither of the other two were quite this needy and I’m tired.
Speaking of tired, I’m just plain old tired from limited sleep, too. Sunday night was particularly short, and Jude didn’t really sleep during the day on Monday so I couldn’t catch a nap. Last night was only moderate and Jude didn’t sleep much again today, so I got to this afternoon completely exhausted – as in I could hardly hold my eyes open on the way home from school pickup.
When we got home, I set out to finish dinner preparations, a squash-based macaroni and cheese with baked sweet potato sticks. I slid everything into its respective pots or pans and asked Tahd if he’d be willing to wake up up when the timer rang so I could catch 10 or 15 minutes of shut-eye. I snuck upstairs and promptly fell asleep, only to awaken to the smell of overdone sweet potatoes. Rushing down the stairs, I found that instead of 10 minutes it had been 30, and although he’d sweetly thought he would finish dinner for me and let me sleep, he didn’t know that I had altered the sauce recipe and intended to finish it when I came down and didn’t realize I had anything in the oven – hence it burned.
There it was – my whole dinner. A disaster! I wanted to cry. And because I’m easily angered when I’m tired, I also wanted to be mean. Thankfully, the years have taught me some measure of maturity, and instead, I clamped my mouth shut as tight as I could so I’d avoid saying things I’d regret and set to work making dinner…again.
So that was my day – not exactly the most successful, but we made it (and I wasn’t mean) and some days, that’s enough. Today, it was for sure.