(It's funny, because I started this post several weeks ago and I never finished it. Never finished, because I was too busy trying to juggle. My life was, and still is a circus. I don't have delusions of grandeur that I'm going to wake up on March 1 and my life will magically be in order, but I do know this: On January 29, I felt my entire body sigh with relief. And while I know not all of my problems will be solved on March 1, it's the first day of a new chapter in my life. A chapter I'm pretty darn excited about.)
Sunday nights are pretty much my least favorite part of the week. Most of you would probably argue that Monday mornings are far worse than Sunday nights, but hear me out.
Sunday night means the house is never as clean as I want it be to start the week, I've never done as many chores or run as many errands or thought of anything to have for dinner for the week. I'm always too tired to be starting a new week. And London is too tired from a busy weekend that I have no choice but to put her to bed on time, when all I'd rather be doing is snuggling on the couch as a family of three and letting her fall asleep nuzzled in between us.
On Sunday nights, I have nothing to look forward to besides the start of the work week. The start of the work week means dropping my precious baby off at school and watching my husband walk the three blocks to his office. In a matter of moments, the two people I love most separate, and I feel like my heart is being ripped into a million pieces with each block I drive from them.
Sunday nights seem to be a culmination of how much I don't have it together. How I thought by now, this many months in, that I would have it under control. That things would be manageable. And instead, I feel so overwhelmed that I hide in the solace of a dark beer and catching up on DVRed shows. Because I treat irresponsibility and chaos with more irresponsibility and chaos.
If you're one of those people who sees Sunday night as an exciting time, a fresh start to a new work week, the end of good times over two days off - how do you do it? How do you find the silver lining? Because I'm sort-of at a loss right now, and the pit in my stomach grows, week over week, to the point that people might start thinking I'm pregnant again.