I cannot believe it is already mid-October.  Since school started (in late August), I have been “under” (that terrific food server term describing the state in which one is behind in everything).  Just before school started we had our second poison oak exposure, followed by impetigo, a contagious skin condition (from all the scratching).  We had never dealt with poison oak or impetigo before, so it was difficult to identify either until we were well into the throes of each.  All together it was six weeks of extra laundry in hot water, cleaning (everything), doctor appointments and a feeling that we would never get out of that vicious cycle.  We had to postpone a big birthday celebration for Manly Guy in September by a week because of the impetigo, which pushed the big party to the same weekend that I ran a half-marathon and my brother visited.  A day later we were off to attend a twenties-themed wedding in Carmel (which was a truly wonderful event), followed by several weeks of an overbooked social calendar (symphony and opera performances, a musical, two Date Nights at night clubs, a visit from my sister and her husband) and ending with a six-day family trip to Seattle.  (We got back on Tuesday.)  I wouldn’t want to remove anything, but all together it has been Too Much.  And I have no one to blame but myself for such a ridiculously-packed month (or two).

During this same time period I realized that the perfect part-time interesting job that I have been looking/waiting for was sitting in front of me.  As of October 1, I am officially working for my husband’s company in client development, but it has been a struggle to try to extract two hours every weekday to dedicate to research/outreach to potential clients.  For my first official week in my new position the kids had half-days, due to parent/teacher conferences.  I’m sure there are moms out there who look forward to the extra kid time they get from parent/teacher conference week, but the timing on this particular week was terrible. On half-days it feels like I get *nothing* done.  By the time you run to the store and fit in a few errands or tasks, it is time to pick up the kids from school.  I end up hating short days, and then I feel guilty because I resent the extra time that our lovely children are at home.   Throw in a family trip the week after and I’ve ended up not feeling very accomplished in my first few weeks in my new job.

Layer on top of all this the other things that I try to do, such as writing on my blog, canning, volunteering at the school, getting quality time with my husband, and it feels like I’m a bit of a failure.  Okay, that is overstating it, but right now it feels like I’m not shining in *any* area of my life, but barely doing enough to get by in every aspect.  Then I remind myself that the only reason why I am behind is because I am pushing myself to do more than is really reasonable.  When I feel frustrated and discouraged, I try to remember to take a deep breath and let that frustration go.  I am doing as much as I can, as well as I can.