Tuesday, September 27, 2005

getting things done

More euphemisms. I hear other new moms complain all the time that they can’t "get anything done." When pushed, however, it seems that what they want to "get done" is always the laundry, the dishes, and the vacuuming. Doesn’t anyone long to read a book? Take a walk? Write a poem?

Today on the phone my husband confessed, in a rare moment of life imbalance, that work was getting ahead of him, he felt swamped. Later in the same conversation, I mentioned that I wanted to try to find time to talk about our schedule of things again and how I am still uncomfortable, unsatisfied, and unhappy with my days – i.e., my life. About how I see Isaac growing older and my job not necessarily becoming any easier. That in fact, I think it will become harder and harder in the next couple years and am I prepared to stay at home with him or to go to work or to do something else or nothing or all of the above? "Maybe Wednesdays aren’t enough?" my husband offers, referring to my recent accomplishment of returning to my writing group once a week.

Writing is my work. Imagine, I want to tell him, that you feel the overwhelm you feel today at work every day, all day. Imagine that someone told you you could go to work but only once a week for a three-hour meeting. Imagine that you were given no guaranteed time to prepare for your meeting, and that you could never follow up on the ideas volleyed around at the meeting. Now, you are a responsible individual. You care about your work. Indeed, let’s pretend you have a passion for it, but you just can’t seem to get anything done. How does it feel?

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