on becoming type a

i have a wonderful husband. he is loving and helpful and caring.

he also has a massive case of add. like, lots of ritalin add.

up until about a year ago, i would not have described myself as an organized or efficient individual.

i have heard of cases in which a person loses one important sense (like vision) and their hearing becomes so much stronger in order to compensate. because i have chosen to tie my life to this man in such a way that the two become one, his sweet, (mostly) endearing lack of organization has created a multitasking monster in me.

this afternoon, i pumped while unpacking groceries. i regularly grade papers while eating lunch, plan curriculum at recess, and clean the kitchen while cooking dinner.

life is a bit crazy for us. i am now a mom. a parent. i have a daughter. (can you tell it still sounds new to me?) my daughter is beautiful and sweet. she has emerged from the “fourth trimester” just in time for me to return to my regularly scheduled job as a third-grade teacher and graduate student.

i became pregnant last year just as i had decided to return to graduate school full-time in addition to my teaching career and working in the afterschool program. yes, i am crazy. yes, it was hard, but to be completely honest, i’m extremely thankful for that time. i learned how to do fourteen things at once. i learned how to manage my time, prioritize the important things, and say no to everything outside of the important. i also learned my limits. i pushed myself too hard sometimes, and had to learn to rest.

when i am at work, these new skills are invaluable. i used to be the last one done with any task, and now i’m much more efficient. but when i come home to my sweet baby girl, i had a learn a new skill.

i am learning to breathe.

these are things i tell myself often: 

it’s ok that there are toys all over the floor (and my daughter can’t even put them there). 

it’s ok that there is clean and dirty laundry in literally every room in our house. 

it’s ok that our yard is the only one in the neighborhood that isn’t raked. like ever.

my new type a self is learning (read: has not yet mastered the concept) it’s more than ok.

my beautiful sweet potato is asleep on my chest. i fight daily that anxiety to run around and get things done. she has caused me to stop and slow down because i literally cannot get up when she is sleeping. i can stare at the dirty floor or my daughter's chubby cheeks. that floor isn't going anywhere, but soon my sweet potato will.