I am a stress eater. I can’t help it. When I feel stressed, I want a donut. I don’t really know why, and it’s a lot of self analysis early in the morning to try and figure it out. So I won’t.
Today I am thinking about choices. Why does my son choose to wake up at 4am and shriek repeatedly like a howler monkey? Why doesn’t he just choose to go back to sleep? That was that from 4am to 6am, and I got about 6 hours of sleep. I did enjoy listening to him shriek OVER AND OVER AND OVER and wonder what he was thinking about.
I made a choice, along with Aaron, that I would go back to work when I got this great job offer. Everyone likes to have a little more financial elbow room. This job was clearly from the Lord, as it followed the pattern of provision he’s laid down for our family since Aaron and I first were married.
But this time it was different, because I had kids I’d be leaving behind, albeit with their very loving and attentive father. You know me, I’m all about traditional spousal roles, with the hardworking man and the woman in a skirt who curtsies and always has clean laundry folded and put away. Seriously, I like being a woman, and I’m perfectly happy birthing and raising children and working on my cook book whilst also growing my own organic food.
I like having dinner on the table for Aaron at the end of the day. I love and adore and take great pride in my sons. I also like having a job. Part of me feels a little bit looked down on by I don’t know who. I don’t know why. I think maybe I need more protein in my diet or something. Protein makes me feel un-depressed.
I want to give the men in my life the best of me. I don’t want them to grow up to be meth dealers.
I think I’m just in a slump because it’s been a rough morning. Not a lot of sleep, snapped two pony tail holders trying to get my hair in a pony tail. Found out from my midwife that her back up doctor, the wonderful Dr who delivered Riker has passed away very unexpectedly, and at a fairly young age. I’m a little discombobulated.
What a weird day.