Things have been going fine, really--even smoothly. Even well. We had a lovely trip to San Diego, where the four little cousins played together beautifully, Gwen giving Addie hugs and kisses at every opportunity and Nolie and Raiff eyeing each other less suspiciously than last time (I imagine next time they meet, they might even play together!).
For the first time I can remember, I have the girls home with me for more than two weeks and I haven't once felt panic about it. This is probably due to the fact that they are older and easier to care for and more fun to be around, but also that I've chilled a little, too.
I've taken most of this time off, but am also managing to get some key tasks done for work, so that's fine, too.
And our house is in great shape! We got new floors and most everything is painted and put away.
Still, I can't shake the feeling that I'm just not on my game. I don't feel totally present. I don't feel so joyful. I feel a bit hazy, all the way around. It doesn't help that I woke this morning with a bit of a sore throat and my lower back on fire from some new exercises (from a book ironically titled Pain Free for Women) I tried last night.
My best guess is that I didnd't get much time for solitude before we left on the trip. There was just holiday madness followed by travel madness. There were almost no days of aimless wandering about the house, or sewing, or reading. And as soon as the kids are back in school next week, I'm back to work. So I guess I'm missing the gap.
Do I sound entitled, wanting the gap back? Do I sound spoiled? I mean, plenty of folks who work very, very hard, don't get a few days every December to just chill, so who do I think I am, right? Shouldn't I just get over it?