So, who's the "she", and what has she "got", right?
"She" could be baby Bernadette, who's just recently figured out the whole eating thing, taking dishes like mashed bananas, pureed sweet potatoes, and ripened avocados to a whole new level. And just like her sister, she's a real messy one. If she's not "smocked", there's no hope that her outfit will survive the feeding. (Speaking of, here's Bernie spending a wee bit of time in her favorite place...the laundry basket.) I guess a mother's love has blocked my memory, because I just asked Johnny if Deirdre was that messy as a baby, and he just looked at me and laughed. Then, and only then, did I remember feeding Deirdre in the nude (her, not me). That was the only way we could save her clothes from total destruction. Neat eaters, my girls are not. But cute, sweet and funny, they have all locked up.
Or "she" could be Miss Deirdre, who's recently taken a keen interest in her personal stash of big girl panties. We have a long way to go (I think you have to start potty training in order to be potty trained, right?), but I'm hoping her level of fascination with Hello Kitty and Disney Princess underwear continues. I'm headed off for a weekend with the girls, but upon my return, I think I might be pulling out the M&M's and the egg timer. (I've heard that's all you need. Cross your fingers!)
But alas, the "she" is NOT Bernadette, nor is it Miss Deirdre. In this case, the "she" is me. What have I licked? The concept of going to bed. On time. Before I turn into a pumpkin. For the last few nights, I've been working on a sewing project. And in true Sara fashion, I was determined to get it done in record time. Of course, that usually means staying up past my bedtime to finish just "one last stitch", or telling Johnny as he heads up the stairs, "I'll be right up...", but madly sewing away 45 minutes later.
But not this time. For the past week, at approximately 10:30pm each night, I've said, "Enough." I've just stopped what I was doing, turned off my sewing machine, and walked up the stairs. I didn't take a few extra minutes to clean up (which is so unlike me), nor did I prep things for the next day. I just stopped, mid-backstitch, and went to bed. (Okay...so the "mid-backstitch" part is a little exaggerated, but you get my point.)
I wish I could impress upon you how atypical this is for me. I don't "stop" doing anything. I finish it. In one fellow swoop. (Come to think of it - I bet I don't have to explain further, do I? You're a finisher, too!) But, after 10 years of lupus living, I think it's finally sunk in that rest is more important than a cross-off. You can only accomplish so much on your to-do list in the course of a single day - and sometimes (make that most of the time), you just have to compromise on that list for the sake of your health.
How rested do you think I've been every morning since I've gone to bed at a decent time? How much more energy do I have to devote to my project during the day? And how refreshing is it to put aside the project while I can still function, rather than working on it until the point of exhaustion?
How far I've come, and how proud I am. I think Chapter 3, Section 1 (appropriately called, "Problematic trait #1: Productivity") of my book is finally sinking in. How about that!