We're at this weird transition point. Anand turned four months yesterday, and while he's already sleeping more regularly than Kavi was at the same point, he's certainly not just sleeping through the night. And the first three months were mostly the expected infant hell of horrible sleep, and then it started getting somewhat better, just enough better that we started picking up our lives again. I had a little time to read books, or do crafts. To cook something properly, instead of eating frozen food and takeout and hot dogs. (God, we've eaten a lot of hot dogs in the last three months.) I was getting a few hours a day, and it started to seem like I was getting my life back. Then classes started, and most of that time went away again, swallowed by class prep and student e-mails and grading. And oh, it is bitter, losing that time.
Now there's a part of my brain that seems convinced the worst of the infant stage is over, and that I should have a little more time off -- time to write and read and craft and chat on the phone with friends. When the reality is that I can't afford time off, not yet. There's a ton of stuff to do for the new house, there's a ton of backlogged e-mail, there's a ton of cleaning -- I spent hours and hours and hours cleaning this week and I managed to get this house clean and all the laundry done -- everything except vacuuming, which is really hard to manage, what with children's nap schedules and all -- but it was almost clean, for about oh, three hours. And now it's a disaster again, which makes me cry.
Now that the semester has started, and I'm teaching three classes, there is just too much stuff to do, even with Jarmila here 35 hours a week. There's no room for writing and reading and crafting. I make room for them, because the creative part of my brain has switched itself back on prematurely, and it's making me crazy not to do them. But I then get super-stressed because the entire time I'm reading a book or writing or crafting there's a little clock in my head counting down the time until I'm back on kid-duty, and also telling me that there are dishes strewn all over the counter, and the dining room smells like pee, and there are 300+ backlogged e-mails, some of which are undoubtedly important.
And I get angry at Kevin, which isn't fair because he did a chart and clearly he's logging as many childcare hours as I am, but I don't care what's fair, I'm just at my limit and I really want him to do more, but he's at his limit too, and equally frayed, so sucks to be us.
And I know. It's the middle of the night, I'm underslept, and irrational, and this too shall pass. Anand will eventually sleep through the night, and spring break will come, and then summer break. In two or three years, Kavi will be in school; in five years, Anand will be too. It's not really reasonable to expect that we can both work full-time jobs, have two small children, and have much time for anything else. This is what I signed up for, and life is certainly full and rich, which is what I wanted.
But if I don't get some more downtime soon, I am going to break something. Putting my fist through a wall sounds really good right now.
P.S. This journal entry took me twenty-three goddamned minutes to write.