And that's when the bomb (and the lightbulb) went off

I've needed some time off. Somehow, my career exploded last week and I spent nearly all weekend frantically catching the shrapnel in my arms. I realize this is no way to describe work that I truly love, but this is how it felt.

Like madness. And this made me frustrated and anxious and like sleeping in all weekend long. But I had five deadlines that landed on Saturday, three of them articles that require a great deal of investment and concentration and leave me feeling emotionally and physically exhausted. I also needed to blog during a deadline that I would usually designate as a no-posting time.

The good thing is, I listened to my husband who said to focus on one piece at a time and then sent me to Starbucks while he took care of the boy and the dishes and the laundry and flipping through Bob the Builder episodes.

Another good thing is that I finished. By Sunday night, I was depleted but I was done. My shoulders and chest muscles were cramped up from spending so many days at the laptop and my contacts were foggy from staying up until 2 a.m. so many nights in a row, but I did it. I felt proud of myself and I celebrated with a lot of caffeine and a little more sleep.

The tough thing is, there has been very little reprieve. Lil E's birthday is this week and his party is this weekend, which has called in family from both coasts. I want to concentrate on those celebrations and yet, there are still deadlines.

Another tough thing is, one of my jobs is on the line. A job that I love. I certainly don't want to focus on that drama or disappointment but it is still there. So I'm trying to put it aside for just long enough, at the suggestion of my mother, to just go about the business of writing -- ten, thirty or even sixty minutes at a time.

An even tougher thing is that my sweet, huggy, talkative boy has become consumed with separation anxiety.  He's also been acting out in a way that is the hallmark of being THREE but is also the hallmark of parents who are so busy getting through that small explosions are the way to demand full attention or his way or not putting cucumber on his plate as he requested because that's the way Big Josh from co-op likes it after all rather than using polite words he does actually have in his vocabulary.

I'm not sure what all of this means for me yet. But I know I need some time to be still to find my way to the answers or rather, the process to undo all these crossed wires.

I know this: I want to thrive. I want to turn off my laptop and give my evenings to my family and myself. I want to get back exercising my body, quieting my mind and to stop thinking of a walk or a nap or a manicure as unattainable luxuries that I cannot afford on many levels. I want to release this tension. I want to stop living in survival mode.

And so I began simply on Sunday morning by resigning as the co-chair of a committee I love and helped found four years ago. Now I am working up the courage to turn my thoughts about quitting one of my four jobs into action. This isn't just about work. It is about where I am and what I ask of myself and when to say, "Enough. I've had enough." And mostly, it is about all of that being OK.

Tomorrow, I will chase more of those pieces and then on Thursday, I will devote my whole day and complete attention to Lil E. He only turns three on that one day and I will be there fully.

After that, the peace-making mission in my life will begin as the war of work and home and me have been lately: One thing at a time.

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Linkety Dinkety Doo: Mama say

It's Friday and mama's ready to cash in her chips. I'm sneaking in a few hours of work while my parents take Lil E to his music class and then I'm all his for the rest of the day (or at least until Bruce comes home, please God with dinner in hand, and I go back to fekking work for a few more hours).  I have four big deadlines looming and a month's salary invested in them. As much as I want to ride out the weekend with the lazy lunches and CBS Sunday Morning, I will be fusing my fingers to my laptop. But I've promised promised PROMISED myself that I will spend an hour making a list of all the jobs and committees and commitments I have on my calendar this weekend and take action to cross off anything I don't love. Releasing my fist-hold, that's what I'm centering on. But you, darlings...grab a latte/Diet Rite/gimlet and get to some good weekendy-type reading, if I do say so myself. Here's what I've got lined up for you.

• Trash talk - It's been a looky loo week in the world of celebrity fitness, friends. There was lots of heart-pounding working it out that had nothing to do with exercise. Regardless, after an overdose of VMA talk, nudey picture speculation and loaded accusations, I think we're all ready to let the healing begin. Before I hand out the hugs and heart rate monitors, I'll need a few things: Read more on my We Love to Gawk at Fit Celebs feature at That's Fit. It's full of Vanessa Hudgens, Tommy Lee, Fat Brit goodness, I swear.

• Cheap chat - Just because I'm advocating tossing your cheapy clothes and choosing pieces you can invest your money, style and pride in, doesn't mean I'm not cheering for great fall fashion found on the cheap. Let me be clear - stay away from things on the clearance rack you wouldn't care about otherwise and steer clear of the brands in the store that are priced way lower for a reason. That said, you can still find those investment pieces at Target, Kohl's and other big-box retailers. After all, spending $30 is an investment for some of us and spending $30 on a well-made, perfectly-fitting and fun fashion is smart for all of us.  Here are five fall finds for the fashionista who is fit with her wallet and her handweights: Read what they are on FitBeauty at That's Fit and then let it sink in slowly that the masses will soon be outfitted in Vera Wang *shiver*.

• Summer schedule symposium - When I think back on my childhood summers spent with my educator parents and younger brother, the memories go something like this: Pool. Pool. Backyard pool. Backyard dodgeball. Bike riding. Camping. Beach. Pool. Some day camp. Pool. Those days were all about embracing the sunny weather and freedom to sleep in and play late. When I think about the summer I spent with my husband and preschooler son this year, it goes more like: Work. Work. Daycare shuffle. Hand kid off to hubs. Bad prime-time reality TV. Travel. Travel with laptop. Obligatory travel. Music class. Playgroup. Park. Schedule. Schedule. Stress. Collapse. Wake up early and work. Like many other mamas I know, the return of fall and preschool and the regularity of the year has blown in some regret that we didn't kick back more, slurping popsicles and poking worms. It wasn't all bad, but it also wasn't lazy or hazy or even the crazy days of summer. And I wonder: How many families pack their summers full of stress and schedules, and are summers like these a rarity, even a thing of the past? Read on at Strollerderby.

• Creepy crafty convo - When I first saw this crafty post about creating dolls out of fabric photos of your loved ones for your babies to see and, even better, snuggle, I thought they were just precious. What a great way to bring all those long-distance loved ones a little closer for your kids and what a sweet way to instill the concept of being close to someone even when they live in Cleveland (not to pick on Cleveland, but let's face it, lots of folks purposely steer live far, far away from Cleveland). But the more I looked at these dolls -- and I honestly had a hard time clicking away -- the more I started to see their resemblance to the mother-in-law voodoo doll I got at my bachelorette party. And that made me wonder how freakish dolls like this fashioned after my own family (by blood or marriage, take your pick) would be. Of course, I will need some supplies and clarifications for the frankendolls I would make: Read the rest on Strollerderby.

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Catching is easy, it's the release that's tough

Dear Tiny Grasshopper (yes, you Lil E, not the bug you captured and kept in a jar for four days),

Sometimes, the choices we have to make, even when we are very small, aren't easy. Sometimes, choosing life instead of captivity is even harder, for ourselves and the people (and even creatures) around us. Sometimes, letting go is both joyous and tearful.

But you did it. After three days of conversation, you conceded to letting the grasshopper go free. Never mind that it was hundreds of miles from its home, never mind that it was woozy and wobbly and wary on its six spindly legs when we unscrewed the top of the bug catcher jar. You did it. Even though I reminded you that the grasshopper would have a better chance of living and would probably be happier hopping through the grass in our front yard than clinging to the side of the jar on our dining room table and that he would probably die in there if we didn't release him, and you said, "I think I'd like to have a dead grasshopper!" with a twinge of mustered hope, you did let him go out into the world.

And like the sweet and fiery boy I know you to be, you gathered your gear, including Daddy's key chain with the flashlight, and we tromped down the stairs together for the Grasshopper Good-bye Party in the dark just before bedtime last night.

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