My Candle Gots Two Ends, And Both of 'Em's Burnt (Or: Lament of the Working Mother [Or: Oh Baby, I'm So Tired])

Now don't get me wrong: I am very glad that I continue to have an association with a company that, in return for my daily services Monday through Friday, puts a little something in my bank account every couple of weeks.

I am pleased as punch to be a mom, particularly to such usually-awesome-sometimes-less-so kids. I'm pumped to have the opportunity to clean a house when millions would give anything for the safety and security and richness of one small room in it. I lurve that it has a kitchen in which I can play Swedish Chef and borky-borky my way through recipes of my choosing.

I'm thrilled that my passions met the world's needs in the form of my weekly ESL class and I'm joyful to have found a church that provides community once and often twice each week.

And, despite the economic chaos and political trainwrecks, this country ain't half bad.

Nevertheless.

(Perhaps you see where this is going.)

Some days, it kind of feels like it's all a bit much. Actually, every day feels like it's a bit much, just some days bring more energy to tackle that muchness. And lately that energy has been just the slightest bit hard to come by.

The culprit is actually a recently-added innocuous 15 minutes/1 mile. This time/space change that resulted from our move altered the rhythm of the universe oh-so-slightly so that I now have to leave the house 15 minutes earlier in order to get to work on time.

15 minutes isn't all that long if you're talking about an episode of SpongeBob SquarePants or a coffee break or simmering a sauce. But it's the equivalent of 100 years of sleep deprivation when it comes first thing in an already-early morning. Mondays and Tuesdays are okay, Wednesdays are tough, and by the time Friday comes around, I'm wishing that pajamas counted as business casual.

Of course, there's no way I'll borrow from Peter to pay Paul and go to bed 15 minutes earlier. No, if anything, I tend to go to bed 15 minutes later because my tiredness and inefficiency during my pre-supper free time result in no reading time for PM until well into the PM. And so I groan as I set the alarm and think, only six hours until this sucker goes off, and vow to do better the next night.

So while I'm not complaining per se, I am pouting just a wee little bit. Hopefully y'all will be a bit understanding as I work out the kinks in the new schedule and either a) blog less or b) blog the same but with more crotchety.