My mind, lately, is overrun with decisions and what’s next on the to-do list.
In late July, I got a call from digital arts at NPR, asking me to work part-time. Three hours a day. From mid-August through September. I couldn’t think of a better arrangement, so I eagerly accepted. And it’s perfect. Bliss, really. I go into the office from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m., where I see friends. I get to focus on editing and producing Fresh Air for the web (and I really love Fresh Air). I ride a bike 1 1/2 miles each way. I drink coffee. I am buzzed off feeling needed. Then, I come home to a well-rested, happy 9 month old, who I snuggle and take to the playground to see his 9 and 10-month-old friends and cool moms. I’m happy, people. HAPPY with this arrangement.
Of course, as soon as I accepted the offer, I had to figure out who will care for C. for four hours a day. And what I needed to have in the fridge for him. How and when I pump so he gets a feeding when I’m gone.
Not to mention tying up all of the details for our wedding (I finally bought a dress this weekend! Now I’m signing a contract for flowers. Up next: Planning the ceremony. Figuring out table arrangements. Deciding what C. will wear. If you want to know what else, I need to consult my list.) I’m also making doctors appointments before our move to the middle of nowhere where my choices will be limited.
My mind is overrun. Zapped! Overload. If I forget something (say, a birthday or an invitation), apologies. Life will slow down in the desert. And then I’ll give this blog — and friends — more attention. But for now, my mind is at full capacity — and I’m surprising myself along the way. Last night, I caught myself thinking: “I ate beets for dessert and I’m actually enjoying planning the details of my wedding: WHO AM I?”
(Also, how did my little C. turn into a pre-toddler? He’s pulling up, doing the Army crawl, talking, pointing, waving, signing, throwing up his arms for “so big,” feeding himself, feeding me, giggling when I pretend his feet stink … and he’s really, really cool.)