anxiety, Living

Hold on Loosely

I dropped some balls.

Not all of them. In fact, there were some added ones more involved than the usual ones. I’ve been getting a lot accomplished, doing a lot. But it’s hard to see the progress when some of the more essential tasks have fallen by the wayside.

Sleep. Sinus health. Writing. Clean dishes.

It seems like the mania that accompanies summer weekends has followed me into fall and beyond. And chock full days are not conducive to sleep, when late nights are the only chance for a quiet respite. And hay fever season compounded by a deviated septum and lack of rest, forcing of fluids, and neti-pot usage is just nasty.

The treadmill I’m on seems to have unrolled and stretched to the horizon like a ribbon of roadway.

I need to say no. I need to relax. I need to prioritize.

But, aside from the mundane daily requirements, a lot of what we’ve been doing is fun.

I was bone-tired by the end of last week and the attendant bunkbed mania that ensued. And I’m still digging out of the misplaced objects and displaced duties that occurred as a result. My chi is not where it needs to be. And it snowed for the first time today and my husband is leaving for a business trip. And I’m a worry-wort who does not take things one at a time.

But I stayed in my pjs till early afternoon yesterday and wrote an exciting short story in its entirety. I’m catching up on laundry and the pile of dishes in the sink is not as high as it was. Only one half of throat hurts now and I’m not drowning in mucus. My daughters are thrilled with their three-quarters of the way done big top bedroom. And tight squeezes from beloved family members feel even better when your body is battered and broken.

After all, the object of juggling is not to hold all the balls at the same time, but to rotate and transfer them, holding each one only lightly at a time

Children, Living, parenting

Bunkin’ Crazy

Two nights ago I stayed up until two in the morning searching for Ikea hacks.

Yes, that is correct.  I deprived myself of precious sleep to troll the internet for the most perfectly imperfect set of bunk beds I could find.

I’m in that seasonal state of flux that rolls around every 3-4 months.  This time the feelings are even more urgent because ‘winter is coming’ (at least I don’t have to deal with white walkers – thank goodness!) and everything – our minds, our activities – turns inward.

I’m starting to notice that maze of boxes I left in the basement after a summer scavenger hunt; the piles of clothes that need to be sorted into bins after leaving the drawers to be filled with sweaters and fleece that -just-won’t-fit (at least if I want the drawers closed!); the clothing, supplies, books, toys . . . that my children are starting to outgrow that don’t need to be junking up the joint.

In this sorting and stowing maelstrom, the need for bunk beds in the room my middle and youngest daughters share is making itself vehemently known.  As if the insistent reminders of my middle daughter would let me forget. 😉

In my dreams – that’s right I said MY dreams – I would get a bunk with a rock wall to scale the top bunk, a slide to descend, and a secret nook below.  If not for the problem of maintaining a marital bed, I think that would still be my ultimate dream bed – regardless that I’m supposed to be grown up.  Alas, I don’t think my husband is looking to relive his days on a tight bunk on a Coast Guard ship.  Besides, I can’t afford and/or justify the exorbitant price tag.

If you can afford or justify it, get one - they're gorgeous!

If you can afford or justify it, get one – they’re gorgeous!

Bunk beds in the midrange are still overpriced for the level of quality the consumer receives.  Wood?  MDF with a veneer that looks sickly plastic?  Weirdly placed slats and drawers?  So I figured, since I’m not going to get what I want, I may as well make the price a little more tolerable.

Enter Ikea.

But I’m stubborn and still trying for the extra storage and whimsical details of other bunks I’ve seen and so went searching for hacks to make my own.  If my bedtime that night is any indication, I did not find one.  Some of them looked like hacks.  Some of them would work for a college student used to precarious positions, but not for my rowdy children (especially on the top bunk).  Some of them included far too much carpentry for my tastes.  So I guess that makes me lazy and cheap and incredibly hard to please.

I almost broke up the marital bed even without my dream bunk because my husband was none too happy with me when I finally crawled in.  Call it my seasonal nesting, I could not rest until I’d found a solution (or given up in defeat that morning).  It’s driving me nuts that the current system is not working and yet I can’t find a satisfactory replacement.

Then the neon postcard from a local charity came in saying they would be making the rounds soon to collect.  That’s all I needed.  I went into hyperdrive, stockpiling all I could to clear it out!

If I can talk my father into going to Ikea with me while you’re at work, I can get the bunk and we can break down the crib and donate that.  And the mattress.  And the crib sheets and the crib set . . .

Maybe it’s reverse nesting.  But that’s another post.

If you’ve learned nothing else from this post: Know that bunk beds are ridiculously overpriced and one should not shop for one during a seasonal stir-up or under the effects of extreme sleep deprivation.  Happy Purging and Dreaming!