Today, with the rain reminding me of living in Oregon and my single days, I am feeling a bit less relevant. We closed our fair trade store in February and are in the process of putting it online so that I can stay home with our two adopted girls, ages 3 and 4. But the melancholy wraps itself around me like the robe I've been unable to get out of after 2 hours of being awake.
A dear friend (with a few other friends) is embarking on a new venture only a month after having a child. Her energy is amazing to me as I languish at home not knowing how to retain my own individuality, my personhood, that which make me unique. She is exactly the sort of person who doesn't sit about in her robe, who doesn't second guess and cannot sit still. And, she is exactly the sort of person for whom, as a friend, you cheer to succeed.
And yet, here I sit with a lump in my throat, trying not to cry in front of my kids as they play around me. The 12 hour engagement with 2 very active toddlers leaves me exhausted and I never feel very well rested even after 8 hours of sleep. Never having been a high energy person, I feel sapped by 10 am every day. Many would say I am ungrateful, that I wished for these girls for almost 3 years of the arduous adoption process. Those many wouldn't understand what it is like to hit the ground running.
We are also in the process of a move. Maybe too much all at once: new kids, husband back to work, no outside work for me (must fit it in between meals, play, clothing changes), a proposed move, closing a store only to try and open one online (with little or no computer experience) and no exercise due to time constraints and weather not playing ball.
The whole work from home with 2 kids successfully, I feel, is a myth. Divided attention on all fronts is not enough. And, today, with the dank day, I feel like not enough...spread too thin and in all the wrong directions.