Give Me Back My Groove

You know that feeling you get when you’re on top of your game, the bliss you experience whey you know you’re managing every part of your life (work, marriage, parenting, housework, etc.) successfully?  Yeah, that feeling.  You remember that, right? As the Righteous Brothers would say, I’ve lost that loving feeling.  Okay, so maybe it’s not "loving" but I sure loved feeling like I could be Super Woman (Mom, Wife).

I’ve lost my groove.

There was a time when I felt like I was in control of my life.  I was able to put in my hours at work and actually get things done.  I was able to be a good wife and mother and take care of my family.  I had time to take care of myself, too.

Then, I got pregnant.  (What?  You didn’t know?  Yeah.  Blogging sort of took a back burner when pregnancy stole my brain.)  And along with this long awaited and much hoped for pregnancy came a shift in my mental and emotional state.

No, I haven’t gone crazy.  Well…maybe just a little crazy.  I’m blaming hormones.

Lately I have no ambition to do anything buy nap on the couch and watch reruns of Cold Case Files.  When I’m not plugging away at work, you’ll find me crying because the house is a mess and my son isn’t listening and the dog keeps leaving his chew toys all over the hallway and there are toys strewn across the living room floor and my husband left his socks on the coffee table and oh my God I need to disinfect the coffee table and holy crap if I have to repeat myself one more time I’m going to jump out the dining room window.

Instead, I beg the child to put his toys away, I yell at the husband to put his socks in the hamper and I yell at the dog to put his chew toys away.  Then I realize the dog doesn’t speak crazy and has no idea why I’m always yelling.  Come to think of it, my husband and son have no idea why I’m always yelling either.  I blame hormones.

To be honest, nothing in my life has changed other than being pregnant.  I’m still working the same hours.  I’m still cleaning the same house.  I’m still parenting the same child. I’m still trying to find balance.  (Balance.  It really is a myth isn’t it?  Does such a thing exist, and haven’t we hashed this out before?)

The other day I sat on my living room floor sorting laundry.  As I folded shirts and matched socks, I thought about all the things I had to get done.  Other than making sure my family has clean clothes, I also do most of the house cleaning, all of the grocery shopping, all of the bill paying, and most of the child rearing.

Since I work from home, my husband assumes that when I’ve put in my hours at work, obviously I’ll do the housework, shopping and errand running.  I feel like June Cleaver without the perfect chignon and fancy apron.  June Cleaver didn’t have to tell the Beav to stop throwing his toys down the stairs.  She didn’t have to check her e-mail 15 times each day to make sure she didn’t miss important work updates.  June Cleaver didn’t wake up seven times each night to use the bathroom or get a class of water or calm a child who just had a nightmare.

June Cleaver never lost her groove.

But alas, June Cleaver is a fictional character.

I live in the real world where crap happens and life isn’t always perfect.

So what if I’ve lost my mojo.  I’ll find it again, eventually.

Like, when my children are old enough to take care of themselves.

It will happen.  Right?