I had to take Petunia to the doctor today. She's had a fever all week, and I wanted to make sure it was nothing serious. It wasn't- just a cold that hit at an inconvenient time. Our usual back up day care (my Mom) is on vacation, so Hubby and I have each spent two days at home this week with a baby who is a bit mad at the world and makes a convincing argument against being put down (i.e., she whines/screams until you crack and pick her back up, at which point she whimpers, and snuggles in- and often, falls asleep). Since I am also sick, I guessed that her general grumpiness was caused by a sore throat. The doctor confirmed that.
Our pediatrician's office is one floor up from my ob/gyn's office. When I was on my way down after the visit, the elevator doors opened on the ob/gyn's floor, and I saw a hugely pregnant woman waiting to check in. I was struck by the realization that one year ago, that was me. I smiled, and went on my way, thinking that having an 11 month old- even a cranky, sick one who makes you take sick days you don't really have at work- is far, far better than being 9 months pregnant.
Since Petunia was reasonably happy, I decided to risk a stop at the big box store on my way home. She was drowsy, so I snapped her car seat in the frame and pushed her around the store- and I realized that this was probably the last time we'll use that frame. She's outgrown her infant seat. Her new carseats are in our garage, waiting to be installed. It is hard to believe that my little baby is already big enough to need a new carseat.
The store already has its Halloween candy out, and I had another flashback to a year ago. A little over one year ago, I was seriously addicted to candy corn. I think that may be the only good thing about being 9 months pregnant- you can eat all the candy corn you want, and no one in their right mind is going to give you any grief about it. Hubby said something about my rampant sweet tooth once or twice, and I basically told him to shut up and that next time he was nine months pregnant he could show me the right way to do it.
All of these thoughts play in to my thinking about time lately. Petunia's illness has thrown a bit of a monkey wrench into my timetracking. This is certainly not a usual week. Of course, no week really is. But I wondered if this week would give me the data I want. At first I thought I'd have to start all over, but then I realized that all of my work days are pretty much the same, at least for my current timetracking purposes. So I'll just swap next Wednesday in for today.
But what are my current timetracking purposes? As my thoughts earlier today reminded me, I have it pretty good right now. I have two smart, beautiful little girls (Pumpkin can write her own name! Petunia can put the stacking colored rings back on the stick!), a husband whom I love and who loves me, a decent job that pays well, and a nice house in a nice neighborhood (although our living is overrun by toys and I dream of adding on a play room). I have an extended family that brings joy, not stress, into my life. (Did I mention that my sister babysat both kids for 4 hours last Sunday while Hubby and I went to lunch and for a long walk, complete with a rest stop at a tiki bar? Mmmmm. Frozen slushy fruity drinks!) Despite the current illness, we're all pretty healthy. In short, I have nothing to complain about.
But I'm not really happy right now, and I suspect the reason lies in my use of time. And possibly also in my job. Since I truly believe that the purpose of life is to enjoy it, this bothers me. It is not in my nature to just put up with being unhappy- so I'm going to try to fix it.
Consider this fair warning that there will probably be more posts than anyone wants to read about time, how I'm using it, and how to be happy. You know, your basic "life, the universe, and everything" sort of navel-gazing that will probably be very helpful to write but not so interesting to read.
At least I already know the answer is 42.