Today, I have a terribly messy house and brain, and they both seem to get more cluttered as the hours tick by. I am noticing a pattern. The day after a very full, busy day, I am completely demotivated. When I write that out, it's clear to me what I should do: either pace myself so that even the busy days have time for rest, thereby making the next day less pendulum-ey, OR let myself totally relax the next day (as much as possible with two small children) and indulge in life-ful things without mind for where they fall on my never-ending priority list. Instead, I generally attempt to combat the demotivation by walking around listlessly, starting small tasks and not finishing them, and feeling like a failure for not accomplishing something.
I have managed to keep our fire going and all of us fed today, but that's about it. And when I say "fed," that includes one meal of protein bars. So, there you go. Oh, wait. I have also let Kaladi in and out of the house 13 or 19 times.
Anyway, I think I've got a touch of the old postpartum depression. It's nothing major. Nobody needs to jump into their cars and race over here to intervene. I just have felt a little out of mommying mode and more into whatever mode it is when you lay in a big fluffy bed and eat ice cream all day. I don't have a fluffy bed, so that, among other reasons (two with names that begin with Z) has made that particular fantasy impossible to live out.
We took Ziah to a pediatric appointment at around three months, and they had both Jason and I fill out postpartum depression surveys. I guess I scored a 7 on mine, but the Doc said they aren't worried until it reaches 10. I thought it was funny that we didn't even talk about the questions that lead to the 7 score. I don't know what the high score is, but like my sister said, "10 they're worried, 7 they ain't?! New doctor!" But anyway, yeah, I think it's just a touch of ppd. Reminds me of my childhood. Whenever any of us did something repetitive, we'd say we had a touch of Tourette's. One of my brothers has Tourette's, you know, so we're allowed to use humor and still have it be PC. And if it's not PC, frankly, my dear, I don't give a fruity tuesday toot-a-loot boogers for brains.
I was talking to a friend who learned recently that ppd can take a lot of forms, some of them surprising. Neither of us had really considered ourselves ppd-ers, because we weren't depressed in the ways we envisioned that term to mean. But for both of us (only when we had boys - anyone else have that experience?), it has come as anxiety and also fear of bizarre things. For example, I am daily afraid that little Ziah will be sent to a concentration camp. Um, that would be a perfectly rationale fear in some parts of the world. Not as likely here. But you know what? Life can change in a hurry. Countries can fall apart in a hurry. The point remains though that it's not one of those fears I can DO a lot about, and worrying about it is neither improving my quality of life nor warding off concentration camps. Besides, when I let loose of some of the more ridiculous fears, I have time for the ones like a tiger dragging the children through the bedroom window at night while we sleep. Stuff like that.
All of this is going someplace besides strictly a venting session, not that there would be a problem with a straight up venting session. But the place that it's going is that on days like this, I feel like making a batch of my mom's kick-pants chocolate sauce recipe, which I'm not going to do this particular day, on account of lacking motivation. Doh. Anyway, Mom got this from a magazine or something years ago, and it is a family favorite. It is pretty much the best taste ever, if you're a fan of dark chocolate. I may have posted it before (?).
Mom's Astounding Kick-Pants Chocolate Sauce
1 C sugar
2/3 C cocoa powder
1/2 C cream
Combine all ingredients but the vanilla, and heat to boiling over medium-high heat, stirring frequently. (I first combine the sugar and cocoa powder to each other, to cut down on lumps.) When the sauce is well blended, Stir in 2t vanilla. Serve warm over ice cream. Drop your jaw at the mind-bending delicious factor.