“I just can’t wait for the baby to come so I’ll be done with this pregnancy! I’m so tired!!”

and you cackle an evil, evil cackle?

(You do, I KNOW you do.)

Bless her heart.

Sweet thing, she thinks that the PREGNANCY was the hard part!!! Hahahahahahhaahaaaa!!!!

Little does she know that at the end of the slight inconvenience we call pregnancy, she will be dealing with The Most Disruptive Force Known To Humanity That Spews Human Liquids Just For Fun And Takes Your Heart And Holds It Forever.

This is sort of (not really, maybe a little) like moving.

I kept thinking “I can’t wait for the move! Then it’ll be over! And everything will be simpler and less stressful!”

while the wise crone in me laughed SO HARD she fell off her stool and dropped her knitting. (She knits bad words into doilies, if you’re wondering.)

But really, the move was smooth.  Like, seriously crazy smooth. 

I’d like to credit my awesomeness, but mostly it was my truly fantastic friends, and also the fact that when my brain stopped working completely, I had systems to fall back on.

So anyway, for a move, it was smooth.

But of course there was that moment where the wall came off, and the moment when my accountant decided to retire right before tax season, and the moment when I literally had such decision fatigue that I turned to my friend and asked her beseechingly, “What size pizza should I order?? PLEASE tell me!!!”

So let’s talk about finish lines. 

We must learn to pace ourselves, darlings.

Me and my house, we’re just getting started.

My list of projects to complete is looonng.  Things to paint.  Things to buy.  Things to replace. (I might even buy…hold your breath…a microwave.  But no waffle iron!  Some of you have written in asking why I disparaged the sweet sweet waffle iron, and all I can say is that I have an irrational hatred of single-use appliances.)

I did know this, deep down, about how the move wasn’t the finish line– that it was actually the start of an even bigger project– it’s just that I stuck my fingers in my ears and sang LA LA LA as loud as I could.

(Remember that Calvin and Hobbes where Calvin says, “I have PLENTY of common sense! I just choose to ignore it!”?  That was me.)

In martial arts, they tell you to punch through what you’re aiming at.  In other words, aim to hit a foot behind your target’s leering, jeering face.

Here’s another way to think about it.

One time I had the great privilege of being coached by Dr. Martha Beck on the topic of creativity.  We were trying to decide how many hours a day I should spend writing.

I thought perhaps 37.

She said, “You want the stallion to have a whole racing career, not just win one race.”

So we decided on one hour a day.

(And then I realized that if I write for TEN MINUTES it’s actually a good day, but that’s another story.)

Here is another, simpler way to put this, because yeahhhh I still have moving brain:

Don’t work until you’re exhausted. 

Save a little bit of energy. 

Because just when you think you’re done is usually about when the zombies show up.

Our culture idolizes “leaving it all out on the field.”  (They’re usually trying to sell you beer to drink on the sofa when you’re done.)

The truth is, as soon as you collapse onto the sofa completely exhausted and totally drained and ready to veg out, some small person is likely to come along and say, “Mom, I need you to come look at something,” which is code for “I have created an environmental disaster of epic and historic proportion.”

So save a little energy for whatever comes next.

much love, 

Anna

P.S. Attention! Attention! This is a Very Important Public Service Announcement:
FEBRUARY IS COMING. 
Are you ready???  Are you and your household prepared to withstand the coming onslaught of dread drear dreadfulness???
Fight back here.