Crazy Busy

Apparently, in a poll of 2,000 women conducted by Parents magazine, this is the second most common term used when asked to describe their lives in one word.

Crazy busy.

When I read this data, I smiled to myself.  I use the same expression frequently when referring to my life.

But the article was on stress, specifically that of mothers.

And I thought, "But I'm not stressed... Am I?"

Of course, being the highly over analytical person that I am, I then had to review all aspects of my existence: times of day, days of the week, weekends, weeks, months.  What did my big picture look like?  Was I stressed?

Well, let's review.

From one angle, I wake up, make and have breakfast, clean a bit, get myself ready to leave the house, get my wriggly, giggly, running, twisting, turning daughter ready to leave the house, go for a walk/bike ride/errand running excursion, come home, get my daughter down for a nap, get dinner started, have lunch when Celaya wakes up, clean up, then either leave for work or take Celaya out again for another excursion, get ready for and have dinner, clean up, get Celaya in the bath, read her books, put her down, finally take a shower, pay some bills, watch some TV or read a bit, and go to bed.

Every single day is some slightly altered version of the above schedule.  Crazy busy, right?

From another angle, on the same day, I lounge around in bed for at least a half hour while Celaya has her bottle, and I drink the nice gigantic mug of coffee my husband has brought me, setting it down with a deliciously aromatic "clink" on the glass nightstand.  I enjoy a fashion magazine or a well written political article while Celaya watches videos of herself on my phone.  The breakfast process takes about an hour to an hour and a half because Celaya "helps" with eggs, or bagels, or oatmeal, "helps" unload the dishwasher, insists on coloring for a few minutes, and we FaceTime with Agua (Grandma) for a few minutes.  Our walks and bike rides are generally stretched out to twice the time they would be because we stop to check out tractors or crunch fallen leaves.  During Celaya's nap I usually get to sit (sometimes lay) down and catch up on shows or reading.  At work I almost always have a free hour to read or update my academic skills.  After work or on nights at home I also make sure I have time for myself, and time for my husband.  And on nights at home, I enjoy a nice full glass of a really good wine with dinner.

From the outside, I'm sure to many my life does look like it must be stressful, but from the inside I only see my life as full, full in a way that it never had been until the arrival of my daughter. 

For the most part I think that "stress" is an issue of proper perspective.  I do think that you can decide to be stressed or not, which brings me to the other inner smile I found myself with while reading this article:  most of the tips for managing stress I have already been following.

Delegate, moms.  You don't have to, nor should you, do it all yourself.
I recently managed to get my brother to agree to being responsible for his own night of dinner each week.  Now I have my husband in charge one night, and my brother another.  Yay me!

Breathe.  Unless it is literally a fire, you probably don't have to run, leap, or jump at whatever issue is occurring this moment.
My family has learned that if you leave a message, I'll call you back.  My husband and brother know that I have my little routine of things that I do for myself, whether it be a bubble bath or writing my blog, that I will take care of before doing whatever it is they want to do.  Even my daughter now will wake up in the morning or from her nap and say "I'm coming!" because that's what she is used to hearing me say as I finish up whatever it is I am working on/doing/waking up from and making my way to her.

And finally, organize a life that works for you.
You can see clearly from my schedule above that my life is routine.  Very routine.  Some may say rigid.  But again, it is a matter of perspective.  I love my routine, it makes my household feel like a well oiled machine, it keeps our little family always on the same page even when days go by on which we barely see each other.

And honestly, the only time I do get stressed is when my routine is messed with.  And then I get terribly stressed.  From here I get the moniker "neurotic" by those who know me well.  Ah well, and here you were thinking I was perfect.

In the end, I suppose that what is true of my toddler is also true of me:  I need predictability.

So many aspects of life are unpredictable, there are so many surprises, both welcome and not so welcome, that knowing what the rough outline of each day looks like on my own road of life gives me the ability to take speed bumps and head on collisions more in stride.

In short, predictability enables me to say "No.  I'm not stressed."

Crazy busy?  Most of the time, not really.  Just full.