Check-In, Please.

The last couple weeks I've felt a bit stuck in a rut. Not a bad rut. Every day is just the same old thing, over and over and over again. Life is by no means boring, but I do get bored of the routine. I feel a bit like a robot, like I've checked out.

Between doing bookkeeping (which has been pretty light lately), taking care of the kids, keeping the house in order, which is suddenly a whole lot more challenging now that we're here most of the time, I'm worn out. Not tired, exactly. Just worn out.

Steven Covey has a lot to say about sharpening your saw. Maybe I should listen to him.

Last night I was so out of it, I fell asleep in my clothes. I woke up this morning wearing exactly what I'd put on yesterday morning [minus the jeans - I apparently had just enough energy to pull those off.]. Not cool.

Now there's some variation a couple days a week. Play Dates and Grocery Shopping give some relief from the mundane every day thing, but still...really?

And guess what? I do it to myself. I let myself check out.

Nice job, Mary. Nice Job.

I get up in the morning and pay no attention to those that mean the most to me...well besides the attention I have to pay to keep my children from screaming...because them screaming means I go insane. I don't cuddle with the hubby before pealing my butt out of my oh so cozy bed. Oh no...that affection is saved for my coffee pot. I don't even give myself enough attention. Eye liner and concealer is all I get. Deodorant, if I'm smelling like feet and feeling too lazy to shower. Wow. Just Wow.

Yes, I realize I may be over analyzing.

And no, being a stay at home mom gives you no reason to stay in your pajamas all day, or neglect yourself.

And guess what? Being a person takes effort. Huh! Imagine that.

I secretly...well, sometimes not so secretly make fun of those people out and about that look like they just rolled out of bed, pulled on whatever was on the floor in the bathroom, and walked out their front door. I looked in the mirror, yesterday (granted I wasn't going anywhere), but I looked like one of 'those people.'

Even if my arrogant observation isn't accurate, I refuse to get to the point where I just don't care.

So here's to my checking back in. Here's to my putting forth more effort towards myself, my babies, my husband, and the rest of you beautiful people I'm blessed enough to call family, friends, and acquaintances.