Not a Rockstar

A whole week without a post!  That hasn’t happened in awhile.  It was school vacation week this week.  That’s my excuse.  I feel I’ve been in the car driving kids around and cleaning the kitchen.  I hope this isn’t a foreshadowing of the coming summer.  It’s quite exhausting.  I said to Gregor, “I have gotten nothing done this week!”  But then I had to amend that statement b/c I have gotten a lot done.  I’ve been a mom all week.  More than usual with all of them home.  I suppose my other little projects shouldn’t be the only things that count as “getting something done.”

“My whole life I have been complaining that my work was constantly interrupted, until I discovered that my interruptions were my work.” – Henri Nouwen

My children are my work, not my interruptions.  Just like I always wanted.  

I had no energy this week.  I’m pretty sure of the culprit:  Mr. McGregor.  Ha ha.  We call him that b/c we love Peter Rabbit so much.  My husband is such a night owl.  And I give in way too easy.  But then I’m barely functioning the entire next day.  We like to watch a show every night before bed but I always say, “before 9 o’clock!”  But this week we’ve started shows at 10.  And I’m a wreck!  I write this down to remember why I sleep:

1)  Child Abduction.  My brain thrives on tragedy without sleep.  Abduction is in my head with the finishing of John Hart’s new novel, The Last Child.  It was very well-written but sad.  Twins.  Girl twin has gone missing.  And I’m a twin and start freaking out a little bit and think…know…I would go absolutely crazy if I didn’t know where one of my children were.  If they were snatched.  Then this morning my alarm went off and Madeline McCann’s mother and father were being interviewed.  It bolted me right out of bed.  Brain turned right on.  I think it’s genetic.

2)  The weekly running mileage has severely suffered from the late nights.  My goal is 20 miles a week.  For a runner this is very manageable and actually considered a little “low.”  I don’t care.  It’s what I can do.  But 3 days in a row I couldn’t get up in time before Gregor left for work.  I had to do 7 miles this morning to meet my goal but I was so tired.  I had to walk up both giant hills.  Seriously?  You don’t walk on a RUN!  And then I couldn’t do the 7.  I got home with 4.5.  If you don’t run you are rolling your eyes, aren’t you?  But if you do run you are shaking your head in shame. 🙂

3)  Andrea (my sister) and I are putting together energy recipes.  What do I got this week??  Nada. No energy to think about it.  Irony.

4)  When I am tired I start thinking I’m turning into my mother physically.  She has a lot of chronic fatigue and fibromyalgia.  Oh my gosh, I knew it would happen.  It’s caught up with me.  I could only hold it off so long…And just in case I forget – “I’m so tired,” I said the other night.  “I think I have mono.” Gregor says, “Maybe you’re turning into your mother.”

5)  When I’m tired this question plagues me:  Am I “reaching my potential?”  And what exactly is “my potential.”  Shouldn’t I know by now?

So at 11pm when I made Gregor pull me off the couch before I fell asleep he said, “You just can’t party like a rockstar, can you?”  It’s true.  I can’t.  I’m too tired.  I need a 10 o’clock bedtime.

This guy on the other hand knows how to party like a rockstar:  


Mr. Matt Nathanson spent the night this week before heading over to Proctor to eat some of Art’s rolls and Edna’s waffles.  He arrived at our house at 1:15a.m., got up at 7, was mobbed on campus by the teenagers and their cameras and tweets – “Matt Nathanson is in my English class right now!”  Took off for Manchester to play a show that night, then flew to Kentucky for another quick show before a 4 a.m. flight back to California.  Whew.  He’s a rockstar.  We LOVE MATT!


But I was mortified because of our bathroom.  I figured b/c the toilet upstairs is STILL leaking (yes I have the parts we just need to DO IT) Matt would use the downstairs bathroom.  And remember I was really tired? so I didn’t even LOOK at the upstairs condition of things.  But he said no big deal, he’d shower upstairs.  Such an accommodating rockstar, that Matt.

See this door?  We just barely got the entire bottom shaved off since it wouldn’t fit over the new tile.  So the door wouldn’t even close.  Matt had to angle it so no one could get it.  Of course Brynne did.  “There’s a boy in our shower,” she says.  “Stay OUT!” I tell her.

After Matt left I went in and found the sink in disarray, toys on the floor, towels around the toilet just in case someone forgets and uses it.  Oh yes, I was embarrassed because Matt is a clean rockstar.  I know he is.  And yet he keeps coming back to our house.  Note to self:  Work on hostess skills.  Clean bathrooms.  Even when tired.

I will say I did not drink any of the cold dark yummy energy juice in the form of Diet Coke.  And no coffee.  No jolt.  But if I knew what a hangover felt like, I think it would be my mornings this week.  What’s a wanna-be-rockstar girl to do?  I think it’s sleep.


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2 thoughts on “Not a Rockstar

  1. Debbie Brown

    As a mother, runner, and recovering night-owl, let me just say it’s nice to hear you are human too! I try to go to bed by 10, but it frequently doesn’t work out and then I’m tired too.

    As for the house, it still looks better then mine, even on a good day!

    Reply

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