Acclimating

I am having a problem I never thought was possible.  I have time and space to do with as I please.

Really.  It's a problem.  I can't get used to it.  I'm used to the environment in Phoenix, where neither my time nor my space actually belonged to me because it could be taken away without notice.  I avoided having to deal with a lot of bad vibes by hiding in our bedroom, writing.  I could do that, because Jeremelon took care of the Berrykin.  Now that Jeremelon has a job, we have our own apartment, and I have all this stuff that really and truly is MINE, I keep finding myself at a loss.

I just made second dinner.  Because I was bored.  Or rather, because I felt a might peckish and didn't know what else to do.  I feel guilty playing games or watching a movie or doing anything for myself because I should be spending more time with Berrykin.  But Berrykin has gotten very independent, and what he likes to do, right now, is watch Cars and scream whenever anyone in the movie screams.  And put Duplo blocks together.  Over and over and over again.  Which is great!  I love that he is engaged and happy and feels comfortable (safe and secure haven't happened yet because we're not done setting up the apartment and we're making him sleep in his own bed) and still adventurous.  On the other hand, when I finally settle on something to do, it's like I suddenly have a 40-pound cat.  "I am happy doing THIS, Mommy" becomes "OhmigoshMommyyouaredoingsomethingsoamazingImusttakepartRIGHTNOW!"  He comes very close to sitting on my laptop because when it's in my lap, that's suddenly where he needs to be.  When I use the desktop to forego that problem, suddenly my keys are the most enthralling things in the world and he must touch every single one of them repeatedly.

This, of course, is the nature of a loving, insatiably curious near-preschooler.  I love it.  But at the same time, it's exhausting.

I'm letting him play with our plastic winter cups that he naughtily pulled from a box he'd been told not to play in.  Because it's keeping him entertained so I can whine.  I'm in the bedroom, listening to him dump Duplos in and out of the cups, with one ear always open and legs ready to spring into action at a moment's notice.  All so I can type in peace...and maybe buy myself ten seconds when he realizes I'm missing.  He's very worried about me when I'm missing.  He always comes to find me, and then leads me back to wherever he was playing to sit with him.  Not because he wants me to play with him, but because he wants to sit in my lap while he plays by himself.  You know, so I can't get away.

I took him to the park today and let him play and run, where normally I'm the one doing the running (okay, walking with occasional 30-second jogging bursts).  He was worn out enough to take a nap...AT naptime...WITHOUT a fuss!  He even ran in and hopped on his mattress when I told him it was naptime. O_o  Then he even fell ASLEEP without too much patting and rubbing and singing and playing and and and...  So I had a nice chat with a pregnant friend on Facebook (she's giving me pots and soil!  I can finally start an Actual BerryPatch!), then did the two pieces of copywriting I had due for next week.  (TOGETHER.  WITHOUT INTERRUPTION!)  And I did all my laundry when he got up.  And I'm supposed to be resting for a 5k tomorrow.  I researched some ebook marketing and launching and fun stuff like that.  And...for the last hour, I've been watching the clock, counting down to bedtime.  He's got 45 minutes until bath time...which I can probably shave down by 15 and throw in an extra story, instead.  But what am I to do with 30 minutes?  Getting him to pick up his room will take 5.  The rest is, for him, Thomas time, to wind down watching his trains (part of bedtime ritual, yanno).  But what's a Hollyberry to do?

My docket was full of kitchen organization.  But I REALLY don't want to do that.  The next step is washing dishes, anyway, and my hands are already killing me from three days of washing by hand.  No more dishes for me!  Which leaves...what?  I have my daily relaxation exercises to get to, but have to be able to hear him.  I have writing (oh, so much writing!), but that takes more concentration than half a brain eternally waiting for Toddler Apocalypse.  I would be able to edit, except my editing right now is actually writing, because I have to scrap a scene and start from scratch.  Which leaves brainstorming, which I'm too braindead to do, continuing my search for a back-up artist, which is financially depressing, job hunting, which is just all-out depressing, and...sitting in front of the dryer waiting for the sheets to be dry enough to put them on the bed.  No, wait!  I have TWO sets of sheets now!  No, I have THREE!  I haven't had multiple sets of sheets in nine months, so I completely forgot that I don't have to clean one in order to make the bed.  Woohoo!

I'm off to make the bed.  Then, maybe, after Berrykin is asleep, I can get to my real work, and get this stupid scene rewritten.  Zooooom!