With January comes this overwhelming sense of 'I will never ever be on top of things' ness.
It happens every year and I can feel it creeping up on me as early as December 1st. I struggle to get the tree up, to decorate the house, to make the cookies, to find Christmas dresses, to plan a birthday party, to use up the rest of the flex dollars on the health plan, it is completely and utterly nauseating.
Then comes the day that we have been talking about for months, planning parties for and reading the Bible stories about and 'poof' it's over before we can say Happy Birthday Jesus.
No wonder I am so depressed come Thanksgiving. I can't remember actually looking forward to Christmas morning in a long time. I hate that last minute rush to wrap gifts and lay out stockings. This year I got up three times in the middle of the night so the kids would be surprised come early in the morning. I don't particularly enjoy doing that. I am not a night owl.
So now it's January, time to clean out the closets and find spots for all the new toys. The house is never big enough and I am losing my sense of organization more and more with every year and eash added child. I put it off, stuffing the closets full of things until I can't even open the doors without having a mess to pick up.
I have been wanting to start subbing again. We really need the extra cash and I do miss the work. I know that as soon as I do, though, the baby will stop nursing. It is already starting to happen. We have been supplementing a 2 oz bottle of formula a day. I get so stressed out at the holidays going to gatherings and trying to nurse a baby. I bought a really pretty cover this year and it has helped, but my body still doesn't feel as relaxed as if I was a home and I can't properly feed her. It saddens me and my heart aches with a strong piercing pain. I know that as soon as she realizes that milk from a bottle comes out so much faster and feeding time is quicker she will lose interest in nursing and then I will be propping bottles and going about my business at home instead of holding my baby and enjoying her. I hate that about me. I appreciate nursing her because it forces me to sit down with her and hold her and watch her chest rise and fall and listen to her swallowing clicks and see her smile with contentment. My to do list looms above my head but I know I can't carry her around attached to me to get things done so they have to wait. When I can prop a bottle I can (and will) knock a few things off the list while she is drinking, sad but true.
The kids came to me at 9 this morning saying they were bored. Can you blame them? A week and a half of non-stop go go going and then everything comes to a screeching halt. It doesn't dawn on them that they can play with those new toys or with each other. I am busy cleaning and doing laundry and shoving things in closets so they feel like I am ignoring them and end up pouting or watching crappy television for hours upon end. I wish I could make time stand still while I played with them so I could have everything done and have been a good mommy, too. I know that this time is so short. Looking at my oldest and wondering where the last seven years has gone makes me want to spend every moment I can with them.
So, I throw the to do list out the window and sit, still in my jammies, on the floor in my cluttered living room and play cars with Gavin and help Maleah dress her Beverly Hill puppies and nurse my baby and show the one year old how to hammer the balls into the holes.
I am sure not to regret it.