Cats...the OPPOSITE of a good alarm clock. But perfect if you need to slow down to a snail's pace. Yesterday did not go as planned. Mostly because the night before it didn’t go as planned. I’m finding that a lot where pregnancy & sleep are concerned.
Not falling asleep easily (or at all) make getting up so very much harder.
And in a game of fortunately/unfortunately, I had cleverly scheduled a very early call for myself to make SURE I was up and ready for spin class (it’s own version of hilarity as I begin to bear a striking resemblance to Ms. Gulch from the Wizard of Oz the moment I climb on my bike).
I slid into the call still chomping away at my cereal (the only thing my stomach will actually tolerate in the morning)...and it all went downhill from there.
The call was actually fantastic. I, on the other hand, was feeling more & more nauseous as it progressed, mostly owing to the lack of sleep. By the call’s end I was in one of those not-so-delightful dilemmas. Do I push myself through the not feeling good to do the spin class (and probably feel better by the end of it) or do I honor my body, it’s lack of sleep, & the tiny human growing inside and spend that 90 minutes going back to sleep instead (hopefully without my inner voices mocking me too much for ditching my workout).
I opted for the later. Especially since the person I was supposed to have a call with after my spin class sent an email pleading for a reschedule due to a weekend long migraine that had left her behind on a project she desperately needed to finish.
It was starting to feel like maybe the Universe hit a big old snooze button on my day.
So I got back in bed with my slumbering husband & cat to see if I could quell the nausea with a few more hours of sleep.
It worked for a short while. And then came the crackling noise.
My husband jumped out of bed screaming, “THE LIGHT! THE LIGHT!” as he frantically searched for pants before darting out to see if this was the day the kitchen light fixture was to give out & come crashing down to the ground.
In that moment I remembered that right before going back to bed, I had texted my mom (aka my landlord) about the light’s impending fall to earth. I grabbed my phone to see a text message about my dad being on his way to check it out...thankfully before my pantsless husband dashed out of the bedroom.
Not falling asleep easily (or at all) make getting up so very much harder.
And in a game of fortunately/unfortunately, I had cleverly scheduled a very early call for myself to make SURE I was up and ready for spin class (it’s own version of hilarity as I begin to bear a striking resemblance to Ms. Gulch from the Wizard of Oz the moment I climb on my bike).
I slid into the call still chomping away at my cereal (the only thing my stomach will actually tolerate in the morning)...and it all went downhill from there.
The call was actually fantastic. I, on the other hand, was feeling more & more nauseous as it progressed, mostly owing to the lack of sleep. By the call’s end I was in one of those not-so-delightful dilemmas. Do I push myself through the not feeling good to do the spin class (and probably feel better by the end of it) or do I honor my body, it’s lack of sleep, & the tiny human growing inside and spend that 90 minutes going back to sleep instead (hopefully without my inner voices mocking me too much for ditching my workout).
I opted for the later. Especially since the person I was supposed to have a call with after my spin class sent an email pleading for a reschedule due to a weekend long migraine that had left her behind on a project she desperately needed to finish.
It was starting to feel like maybe the Universe hit a big old snooze button on my day.
So I got back in bed with my slumbering husband & cat to see if I could quell the nausea with a few more hours of sleep.
It worked for a short while. And then came the crackling noise.
My husband jumped out of bed screaming, “THE LIGHT! THE LIGHT!” as he frantically searched for pants before darting out to see if this was the day the kitchen light fixture was to give out & come crashing down to the ground.
In that moment I remembered that right before going back to bed, I had texted my mom (aka my landlord) about the light’s impending fall to earth. I grabbed my phone to see a text message about my dad being on his way to check it out...thankfully before my pantsless husband dashed out of the bedroom.
The "SOS" picture I texted my mom, which brought Dad & his ladder our way. We learned the light wasn’t crashing down at all. My dad was just opening a creaky ladder so he could climb up to take a look at it.
Turns out the ugly, outdated light cover for the hideous fluorescent lights could not be repaired. Or replaced. So he took the cracked, ugly cover to contemplate his next move & left the naked bulbs just hanging out in the kitchen. And the ladder in my living room...in case he got inspired to come back & fix it in the next few days. (Hint: that’s probably not happening. Besides, he’s 70 & I’m pregnant...so who has time to argue about ugly lights & a ladder in the living room. At least the thing folds up small-ish).
Awake & even more nauseous than before, I thought maybe yet another return to bed was in order as my husband left to run errands. But something in me wasn’t ready to just give up the idea I could accomplish SOMETHING. Even in my nauseous state.
I stared at the laundry drying rack & knew I could manage to at least fold up the small number of clothes hanging there...especially since my husband had surprised me the night before by getting all the laundry done.
So I did that.
Proud of my accomplishment (even if it wasn’t going to bring about world peace or cure cancer), I decided I could press on. Next, I’d move a few things off the desk I am trying to empty so I can take pictures & put it on Craigslist. Even a few things moved would feel like progress (on a task that has been lingering for weeks).
I moved a few things. And then a few more. And even a few more after that...including a huge tub of stuff from it’s temporary place to a semi-permanent place while we do a little redesign of the desk area. And then...I was done.
Somewhere inside I felt a magical little voice barely whisper, “That’s enough.”
Really? Could that actually be true? Could these two small bursts of effort be ENOUGH?!
Enough. It’s a funny concept.
When I looked it up on Google, I found that as a pronoun it means “as much or as many as required.” As an adverb the definition is “to a moderate degree; fairly.”
Somehow this little voice knew that. Which is funny...because on any other day my definition of enough seems to be more elusive. Something along the lines of “one or a bunch more than I actually completed.”
Talk about setting myself up for failure. Geeze.
Turns out the ugly, outdated light cover for the hideous fluorescent lights could not be repaired. Or replaced. So he took the cracked, ugly cover to contemplate his next move & left the naked bulbs just hanging out in the kitchen. And the ladder in my living room...in case he got inspired to come back & fix it in the next few days. (Hint: that’s probably not happening. Besides, he’s 70 & I’m pregnant...so who has time to argue about ugly lights & a ladder in the living room. At least the thing folds up small-ish).
Awake & even more nauseous than before, I thought maybe yet another return to bed was in order as my husband left to run errands. But something in me wasn’t ready to just give up the idea I could accomplish SOMETHING. Even in my nauseous state.
I stared at the laundry drying rack & knew I could manage to at least fold up the small number of clothes hanging there...especially since my husband had surprised me the night before by getting all the laundry done.
So I did that.
Proud of my accomplishment (even if it wasn’t going to bring about world peace or cure cancer), I decided I could press on. Next, I’d move a few things off the desk I am trying to empty so I can take pictures & put it on Craigslist. Even a few things moved would feel like progress (on a task that has been lingering for weeks).
I moved a few things. And then a few more. And even a few more after that...including a huge tub of stuff from it’s temporary place to a semi-permanent place while we do a little redesign of the desk area. And then...I was done.
Somewhere inside I felt a magical little voice barely whisper, “That’s enough.”
Really? Could that actually be true? Could these two small bursts of effort be ENOUGH?!
Enough. It’s a funny concept.
When I looked it up on Google, I found that as a pronoun it means “as much or as many as required.” As an adverb the definition is “to a moderate degree; fairly.”
Somehow this little voice knew that. Which is funny...because on any other day my definition of enough seems to be more elusive. Something along the lines of “one or a bunch more than I actually completed.”
Talk about setting myself up for failure. Geeze.
I thought back to a conversation with my mom about the time she & my dad were trying to decide if he should take early retirement from his government job so he could pursue his dream of finishing law school & taking the bar exam. She said that for quite some time they’d been saying they weren’t sure they had enough money saved to make that work.
Until one day one of them asked themselves the question,
“How much is enough?”
Mom advice is the best. Mine in particular is one of the greats...Mt. Rushmore-worthy! They stared at each other blankly because neither of them actually knew. They’d never ACTUALLY bothered to define or calculate what enough meant in this case.
Flash back to me in my living room...looking longingly at my cozy maternity pillow through the bedroom door. Could the little voice I heard be right? Had I done enough for the moment?
I decided that in addition to one stellar early morning phonecall, dealing with the great light debacle of 2017, folding laundry, AND making progress on clearing my desk...I had also been simultaneously growing a human. All while nauseous. So yes, I had indeed done enough for now.
Turns out acknowledging or defining “enough” in that moment led to more than enough later on...AFTER a nap. I squeezed in a 2-mile afternoon walk, learned a bunch of useful stuff to help my hubby rework his resume for a new job opportunity, and turned my 3x a week 15-minute commitment to sit down & write into 45+ minutes of creative time.
Maybe the secret to feeling like enough lies in knowing when we’ve DONE enough. Some days that is a mile long list. But most days it might just be a few key things.
What it most definitely is NOT is something someone else can or should decide for you. Only you know your “enough” in a given day or in relation to a specific goal. Not your parents. Not your partner. Not your kids. Not your friends. And most assuredly not “society” (most of whom have never met you...so really, “they” can bugger off).
Not sure why it took me so long to figure this out. Perhaps I just never had a quiet enough day to actually hear that tiny voice inside. And maybe I owe this nausea (that slowed me down in such an annoying way) a heartfelt thank you. Because suddenly my third trimester pregnancy slowness doesn’t seem like such a problem. In fact, it may just be the greatest gift I could have ever received (minus the heartburn...I still refuse to believe there is any use to that nonsense).
Now if you’ll excuse me...I have a whole lot of NOTHING to do for a little while...and I’m pretty darn excited about it!
Flash back to me in my living room...looking longingly at my cozy maternity pillow through the bedroom door. Could the little voice I heard be right? Had I done enough for the moment?
I decided that in addition to one stellar early morning phonecall, dealing with the great light debacle of 2017, folding laundry, AND making progress on clearing my desk...I had also been simultaneously growing a human. All while nauseous. So yes, I had indeed done enough for now.
Turns out acknowledging or defining “enough” in that moment led to more than enough later on...AFTER a nap. I squeezed in a 2-mile afternoon walk, learned a bunch of useful stuff to help my hubby rework his resume for a new job opportunity, and turned my 3x a week 15-minute commitment to sit down & write into 45+ minutes of creative time.
Maybe the secret to feeling like enough lies in knowing when we’ve DONE enough. Some days that is a mile long list. But most days it might just be a few key things.
What it most definitely is NOT is something someone else can or should decide for you. Only you know your “enough” in a given day or in relation to a specific goal. Not your parents. Not your partner. Not your kids. Not your friends. And most assuredly not “society” (most of whom have never met you...so really, “they” can bugger off).
Not sure why it took me so long to figure this out. Perhaps I just never had a quiet enough day to actually hear that tiny voice inside. And maybe I owe this nausea (that slowed me down in such an annoying way) a heartfelt thank you. Because suddenly my third trimester pregnancy slowness doesn’t seem like such a problem. In fact, it may just be the greatest gift I could have ever received (minus the heartburn...I still refuse to believe there is any use to that nonsense).
Now if you’ll excuse me...I have a whole lot of NOTHING to do for a little while...and I’m pretty darn excited about it!
Thank you for reading!! If you enjoyed this post or think someone you know needs to hear that it's okay to just BE today, while DOING absolutely nothing ...PLEASE SHARE!! It's entirely too easy to get caught up in the madness of do-do-do (and what kind of doo-doo is that?!). We all need each other to keep ourselves grounded in the fact that our friends & family don't love us for what we do...they love us for who we ARE!! Thanks to those who remind me when I get on a spree of task-checking madness!
This post brought to you by the many messy & decidedly NOT put together faces of Leslie Riley (formerly known as Leslie Stein) who is spending the rest of today doing pretty much nothing.
This post brought to you by the many messy & decidedly NOT put together faces of Leslie Riley (formerly known as Leslie Stein) who is spending the rest of today doing pretty much nothing.
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