I thought the rush was over

Normally after Christmas I feel this awesome sense of time moving in slow-play mode, like everything was going so fast and then the tape kind of got tangled and things start moving frame by frame instead. I have always liked that feeling for the first few days following New Years Day but I remember last year, around the second week after Christmas, that time started to creep by. I found myself desperately looking for activities for Emily and me with Hope in tow.

This year is different and I don't know why. It doesn't feel quieter, the pace isn't slower. Sure, there are less visitors and activities but I feel just as harried, rushed and disorganized. Not to mention the house feels just as dirty. Maybe dirtier even. The Christmas tree finally hit the bricks yesterday. All the decorations are gone and the Christmas cookies are now planted solidly around my middle. But I still feel like I'm in a slippery funnel and I can't get a toe hold.

I think I know why. Their names are Emily and Hope. Christmas with them was wonderful, magical even. But unfortunately the burst of energy they both experienced has propelled them forward like some kind of kinetic jet pack that isn't slowing down. I'm having trouble keeping pace with them, keeping Emily entertained enough (at least to her liking) and keeping her agreeable. The last few days have been tough with Emily. She's been rude, loud, hepped up on goof balls in general. Hope is in the early days of weaning so that is wearing us both out a little bit and changing her wake-up schedule so I'm forced to hit the ground running with both girls out of bed at the same time.

This sounds like one long complaint. I'm sorry for that. I'm just damn tired. I also feel like I have very little time to myself - it adds up to about two hours a day total - to do things I really want to do: like knit and cross-stitch and learn to smock and get back into my sewing. I really want to throw myself into my fibre arts this winter but I'm not finding the time. Not to even mention the sadly neglected blog, cooking and baking (for fun) and reading. And my new course starts tomorrow night. I'm seriously considering dropping it for this semester so I can have a breather, do what I really want to do, and have John home a little more. Taking this course means he has to work on Sunday afternoons to prepare for his teaching the following week.

I'm not nearly as grumpy as this post suggests. I just needed to get it all out before I go upstairs, pick up some knitting, have a cup of tea and relax.

That tea may look distinctly like a glass of framboise. Hey, don't judge me. I deserve it.