For the past two weeks I have not been able to focus properly on my job. Here I am, for instance, blogging instead of working. I've prayed, I've taken small steps, I've blundered and bumbled and nothing is wretchely behind, but nothing is leaping forward, either. And since I work for a church denomination and all we do is supposed to be for the glory of God, I feel particularly guilty and inadequate.
It doesn't help that my three-year-old often wakes up several times a night or that three mornings of the week I have to limp out of bed at 5 a.m. Sometimes I find myself nodding off in front of the computer. I find myself eating too much in a feeble attempt to wake myself.
Lately I've been trying to improve my routines. Actually, I'm trying to construct them from whole cloth. I grew up in a patholgocially unstructured environment. One of my favorite shows was the Brady Bunch; I tried to immitate their household, making up the beds just so, carefully folding down the sheets at night. I still don't know how anyone could sleep bound to the matress that way. Anyway, I would start the summer by constructing an elaborate schedule that inevitably fell apart, as I lacked the tenacity to stick with such an unfamiliar project. No wonder I loved going back to school in the fall--school was rigidly structured and I could just pour myself into it. So, here I am trying to run a household and raise two children and I really have no clue about the stuff that most people learned as a matter of course. Budgeting, meal planning, cleaning, preparing for holidays or special events--they're all mysteries to me. But I do now have a set of routines so that I can actually get my kids on their buses on time. And I resent those routines. My entire day is swallowed up by a sequence of small, dull steps that fit together to form one dull life. Blah.