I've been feeling a little overwhelmed lately. I've noticed I'm not alone -- a lot of folks in the blogosphere have been in a state of malaise for the past month or so.  I think my main problem is that I've been running on adrenaline -- I can almost feel it downloading into my veins on an hourly basis -- for about three months now.  In addition to my lovely full-time job, I've been planning this book tour (soooo not complaining, but let's be honest, it's a lot of work, but still, sooooo not complaining) in my "free time," and our family social schedule has kicked into preschool-ballet-class-recital-coming-up, backyard-barbecues, weddings-and-other-summer-travel, mow-the-lawn-every-week, full-on hypergear.  And my child!  My adorable child!  Who suddenly has started fighting me about every decision, every movement of her little finger, from which toilet to use when she has to pee to what she'll be eating for dinner to which barrette will go in her hair to when she can give Bella her treats.  EVERY DECISION.  EVERY TIME.  And lo, some days I am just NOT UP TO THIS. 

Yesterday I hit a big wall.  I called my husband crying after driving a half hour to my OB-GYN's office for the yearly appointment that apparently hasn't happened since 2005 (gulp - please cervical cancer, do not be there) and has been rescheduled twice, only to wait a half hour, get completely undressed, and then hear my doctor being paged to go deliver a baby as I sat waiting for him.  Ten minutes later, and I would've been done.  So I hopped off the table, rescheduled for the third time, and headed home.  Two hours wasted.  And I had SO MUCH TO DO.  My husband, rock star that he is, gave me a very firm pep talk about finishing strong, and how these book events are like replacing the door hinges and light switches when you remodel a room.  Why would you go to all the work to remodel a room and then ignore the details?  And I know he is so right.  I'm just so tired. 

After that, I was talking to Blondie when she got some bad news, and then my head started trying to figure out how to also fix Blondie's life in addition to attending to mine, even though I know she doesn't want me to fix her life and GOOD LORD, SHE IS AN ADULT AND DOESN'T NEED ME and all that, but I think my concern for her then pushed me completely over the edge.  I forced myself to focus on my job when I got back home (working from home again), and I made good progress, but I'm in the process of doing the technical equivalent of sorting a bale of hay into a new hay bale configuration.   I made like 200 changes and was still not done with even one tiny section.  FRUSTRATION.  Five o'clock came. I realized I hadn't written my BlogHer post for Monday yet.  By the time I was finished with that, I realized the little angel was going to be one of the last kids picked up at daycare AGAIN.  Failing, AGAIN.  Now I know some would say that is not a failure, but I hate how much time she spends at daycare, and if I hadn't had to blow two hours at the goddamn-someone-else's-baby (yes, I was in THAT frame of mind) doctor, MY BABY would've been picked up a lot earlier.

I brought her home.  She was not fighting me.  She wanted green eggs.  We watered the flowers.  She helped me make green eggs.  We ate our eggs, then we sat outside while she ate pudding and watched for my husband to come home from his guitar lesson. We decided to go across the street to the park.  I pushed her on the swing for a while, thinking how nice it was to have a park so nearby, and how much I really do love my new neighborhood, the neighborhood that I guess isn't new anymore, because we moved into Chateau Travolta a year ago next week, and how GOD WHY CAN'T I JUST RELAX ALREADY? 

The little angel broke my revelry.  "Push me higher!"

I pushed her higher.

"Push me higher!"

I pushed her the highest she's ever gone.

"Look, Mommy!  I'm getting lost in the sky!"

And then, like Bailey on Grey's Anatomy, I think I was able to see the big picture.

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Exercise makes you smarter.  Read the review at Surrender, Dorothy: Reviews.