So I suck at this.

Apparently I suck at this whole relaxing thing. I used to be able to relax. Oh, before I had kids I could relax my ass off.

Now … well, I believe I can relax in small doses. Hanging out watching a movie with the family … okay, maybe not a whole movie. But certainly a good portion thereof. Sitting and visiting with my Mom or a friend … oh yeah, watch me tuck my legs up and sit back. Reading a book in bed, yup I’m relaxed. Or moderately relaxed. Until the next kid wanders out of bed looking for a drink-pee-hug-question answered.

However. A whole day to myself in a hotel room in a different city? I am losing my mind. Sure, there are likely oodles of possibilities of things that I could do in Toronto. I mean, it’s Toronto. It’s a decent sized city, after all! However, in all my infinite wisdom, I thought … No! I will just take some me time and relax today. The husband is cheering me on “just enjoy it!”, the fellow Mom friends are envious “time to yourself in a hotel, are you kidding me!!” But me? After a full day to myself? I want to run screaming down the hall in my zebra striped marshmallow pants. (Yes, that is a thing. Think super cozy comfy pj bottoms).

My children have broken not only the internal alarm clock that used to allow me to sleep past 6:30 am … but also my ability to just be. I have turned into a human doing. Dammit.

Unfortunately, my IPs haven’t made it out of Europe yet. They are stranded at the whim of an airline strike. Having just come off a seemingly long and drawn out teachers strike, I am quite frankly done with the word “strike”. We are hopeful that they will make it out tomorrow, but at the moment we don’t know. It’s disappointing and frustrating, and completely out of anyone’s control – naturally.

My one small victory for the day is that I managed to give myself a progesterone shot! All by my big-girl self! And it wasn’t even a big deal.

Well, that was a victory, and so was managing to not go running down the halls in my zebra marshmallow pants. Let’s count that too.

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