Alive

I have a bug.

A cleaning bug.

I have had so much energy and motivation to Get Things Done that I think it’s driving everyone a little crazy.

There must be some sort of threshold when our babies turn four or five months old where we women suddenly change our hairstyle, go back to the gym, empty out the scary closet, and cook an actual meal for dinner.

I showed up to a birthday dinner with girlfriends a couple years ago when Ruthie was only three months old. These were gals I hadn’t seen for awhile, and they ooh-ed and aaahh-ed over my new haircut. One of them asked how old Ruthie was, and when I told her she said, “Yup. That explains it.”

I think it has to do with routine. Or sleep. Or both.

By three to five months my babies are napping a little more regularly, and sleeping through most of the night. I wake up in the morning recharged, ready to sort through a box of old baby clothes. I can predict with general accuracy when the next nap will occur so I can plan my day accordingly.

I fear that I’m a little over-ambitious these days. I have painting projects on my list, and sewing projects. I need to clean out our storage area, clean out my old office area, and figure out how to make my kitchen pretty until we can afford to remodel it.

I love to purge. I’ve made five trips to the local Salvation Army this month. I even brushed the dog because her fur was cluttering up her body too much. I think she weighs five pounds less, now.

The next time I have a baby (IF I have another baby), I need to be reminded of this threshold. Bryan needs to be reminded of this threshold. We need to just throw Order to the wind and embrace the chaos so we don’t drive each other crazy again.

I feel like my old self again, and I’m remembering how much fun my life is.

When I was a kid, whenever we drove through a tunnel it would get dark and I would roll down the windows of the car and scream until we hit daylight again.

I’ve come back into that daylight.

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