Working full-time

As I knew would be the case, it's not that bad. 

At least not yet.  I'm sure all the little nit-picky stuff that gets put off because time is tighter will accumulate in the back corner of my mind over the coming weeks.  And they'll eventually build up to a crescendo of holy-shit-the-half-done-undone-needing-to-be-done-crap-is-sending-me-to-Crazytown, unfairly bestowing upon my husband a franticly irrational, albeit passionately defended, meltdown to assuage.

But for now, we're all good.

So good that I didn't mind leaving the kitchen half-a-mess Sunday night after hosting a really nice family dinner. Ok, I minded, but Brian convinced me to let it go and sit on the couch for a bit with one more glass of wine. That's progress.

So good that we have somehow become adept at a weekday morning routine that readies me and the baby, often 10 or 15 minutes earlier than expected.  Occasionally there are early morning tears because little boy would rather be held than play with toys on the floor watching Mama, or tantrums because breakfast isn't coming fast enough, but generally, our mornings offer some great smiles and a good mix of one-on-one time balanced with the requisite hair-doing and makeup-applying.

So good that I relished in the surprise excitement I felt yesterday afternoon -- little-kid excited, all heart-a-flutter and quick-breathing -- when I realized that in just a few hours I'd be home, catching up with my little boy on all the new lessons and excitement his Monday brought him.  That's an unexpected treat, I tell ya.  No, I don't have as many long weekends to look forward to lounging and erranding with my boy as I used to, but that electric excitement, the joy of anticipation, is pretty darn exhiliarating.  I'll take it.

So good, in fact, that I'm looking ahead with hope rather than anxiety or fear to other changes that are-a-coming, changes which may challenge or complicate the life balance and perspective I try to maintain.  Hopeful, because I'm confident I can excel in different aspects of my life simultaneously.  I can grow on different levels and in different ways than other people choose to grow.  And no one way is right or wrong, better or worse.  The simple truth -- and one it's taken me a year or two to really, fully appreciate -- is that a person is responsible for defining her own roles in her life: mother, wife, employee, boss, volunteer, friend, house-keeper, preserver of life's love and inspiration.  No need to compare my recipe for a full life, which portions all those roles and priorities appropriately in a balance that makes me happy, to that of anyone else.

We're all good.