Tag Archives: procrastination

Eyeore-itis

2 Mar

Whine: I’m on the home stretch of this pregnancy. Which means he could come today or three weeks from today. The uncertainty (and the uncomfortable nature of carrying another human in my belly) is really wearing me down.

Cheese: People return your calls when you’re this pregnant. I like to call, hang up and not leave a message just to freak them out. That’ll teach them to screen my calls.

Remember the spring semester of your senior year? The one that came after you got accepted to college (or got that job) and really didn’t matter much at all. Remember how oppressive and pointless every quiz, group project and term paper seemed at that point? Do you also remember how it took exponentially more energy just to get your sorry behind to class (if you went) and do the bare minimum just to get the heck out of dodge? And in response to any inquiries about your sudden loss of motivation there was an easy answer: Senioritis.

Apparently the last few weeks of pregnancy for me have a similar malady associated with them: Eyeore-itis. You know Eyeore, the fluffy grey donkey, Winnie the Pooh’s gloomy pal. He continually walks around feeling very despondent about losing his tail or having his house of twigs crushed by an over-enthusiastic Tigger yet again.  He mumbles and complains about his difficult state of affairs. You can’t help but feel a little sorry for old Eyeore, I mean, his favorite food is thistles. 

So these days I’m feeling a little Eyoreish. I’ve lost my tail (and my phone, and my keys, and definitely my patience) more than once today and am surrounded by a couple of little Tiggers who generally knock over anything I manage to actually clean up.

Yeah, that’s right. I’m supposed to be at the height of my nesting potential, rehanging light fixtures and shellacking (it’s a real word, look it up) diaper changing tables. Instead, I’m letting the laundry mount and staring despondently at the heaps and heaps of baby boy hand-me-downs that really ought to be in drawers instead of Hefty bags.

Mostly I’m just really, really tired, my ginormous belly (which now literally has a mind –and body– of it’s own) hurts more often than it doesn’t, and my overly ambitious Before-He-Arrives List suddenly doesn’t feel like joyful preparation and now hangs over my head like I’m being held in the stocks while tiny townspeople hurl things at my immobilized form. (You think I exaggerate?? I cannot tell you how many stuffed animals I’ve barely dodged in the last week alone. Lil’ Sis did not fare nearly as well. And the stuffed gorilla that hit her had a tiny battery pack that came loose just in time to whack her in the face.)

I know I really shouldn’t complain. For lots of reasons. One being that I get to have a sweet little sunshine of a baby boy sometime this month. I know this. But I also know that we are all real people, and that if I spend every blog post blowing sunshine about how great my life is, everyone will stop reading because we all know that it’s misery that loves company. Besides, this blog is my outlet and it’s way cheaper than therapy.

I also shouldn’t complain because I’ve had worse third trimesters. Like ones that occur in August. Where my fingers swell so much that I can no longer wear my wedding ring. Ones where I get carpal tunnel syndrome and for my last four weeks of pregnancy my hands hurt so bad I can’t hold a pencil, type on a computer, crochet that stupid baby blanket I’ve been meaning to finish for months. Where it even hurts to grab my toothbrush and brush my teeth, although I manage somehow. Four weeks without brushing my teeth would be a long time. Even for me.

So yeah, life’s not that bad. I can (obviously) type on the computer. And hopefully if you’ve seen me recently you know that I am still brushing my teeth, although some days that’s about all I manage. And really, by the third baby there’s not much on the List that actually has to be done. Car seat? Check. Dusty from a year in the attic and inexplicably sticky? Yes, but still functional and more importantly fits in my car with the other two.  Bed? Check. Also have a few boxes and an empty dresser drawer he could sleep in, just in case. Somewhere to ship the sisters to when the Blessed Event occurs? Check. Definitely don’t want them in the room to witness the ugly side of the “miracle of life” just yet.  

But just because he’s my third doesn’t mean I don’t want everything just right for his arrival. I want his room to at least resemble a kid’s room and not just the guest room into which we are stuffing his cradle. I’d love to have all his tiny little clothes folded sweetly into those dresser drawers I haven’t emptied of random collections of junk yet. Having a few packs of diapers would probably also be a smart idea too.

And all of these tasks are feasible. I’m not immobilized by the sweltering August sun. I’m not so interminably large that I can no longer move. I even get time to myself now and again. But I’m staring at my List and it all seems so impossibly huge, and I just feel so sleepy. So instead of doing the one or two things I might manage today, I curl up on the couch and eat some thistles, right before I give up and fall asleep.

The 10-Step Plan

17 Dec

Whine: So very, very behind on every item on The List.

Cheese: Got a handmade ornament that  Big Sis made at her awesome preschool–an ornament with her handprint on it. Totally made me cry. In fact, just typing it is making me verklempt.

 

Anyway, I don’t like to toot my own horn. (Who am I kidding? I totally do.) But I have to confess to you that I have very nearly perfected the art of procrastination. Since it’s Christmas and all, I figure there are some of you out there who may be new to the procrastination game, so I thought I’d share the 10 Steps of Procrastination. Consider it an early Christmas gift.

 

1 ) Optimistically overestimate your time, talent and ability to complete a project.

2 ) Put it to the back burner (figuratively) while you deal with urgent tasks on the other burners (literally)–try not to burn the house down.

3 ) Realize that you may eventually have to complete the tasks/projects you committed yourself to.

4 ) Get overwhelmed and pretend you don’t actually have to do any of them.

5 ) Avoid, avoid, avoid. (This can be achieved a number of ways. I prefer reading the blogs of strangers and playing word games on my Social Gaming Network. Twirl is totally the new Solitaire.)

6) When you have less than 24 hours (or 12 if you’re good) to the project deadline, give up on all other tasks including, but not limited to cooking, cleaning, sleeping and personal hygeine so as to focus 109% (you gotta save 1% for blogging/facebook) on the project at hand.

7 ) Cry.

8 ) Figure out that you will have to cut at least 50% of your tasks.

9 ) Make a mad dash to the finish line. Throw some stuff together (onto a blank page, into a gift bag or into a suitcase) and tell yourself it’ll be fine.

10 ) Crash. Swear never, ever to be so foolish again. Until tomorrow.

 

Speaking of procrastination, I’ve got 130 unmailed Christmas cards, 6 loaves of unbaked banana bread, piles of unwrapped gifts, and lots of unfinished shopping to do. So what am I doing? I’m curling my hair with a curling iron and photographing myself. (Clearly I’m on Step 5.)

Don’t ask me what possessed me to do this*:

Awesome Hair

Clearly I had forgotten about this**:

nice-hair

Well, it’s almost 5pm, my kids will be up any minute, and I’m due to head to Step 6 & 7. Gotta run! Merry Christmas.

 

*First of all, is my forehead really that big? And yes, I’m wearing a lumberjack-inspired bathrobe. It’s a hand-me-down from my mother.

**Dude, why didn’t Mr. Dad ask me out way back then when he had the chance? I was smokin’ hot.