At Least I'm Predictable

Here it is, the last day in January and my blogging experience is already past due.  I think what happened was the Gaslight show went up and I immediately went back to work, which means little to no time for anything but the necessities.  And, unfortunately, blog, you are unnecessary.  But it's nice to be back for some venting.
I am so tired all the time.  I am tired ALMOST like I was when I was pregnant.  But I am not pregnant.  I am a working mom, yes, but a working mom of one.  One very good, very pleasant toddler.  And I have a supportive husband who contributes to the household.  What is the reasoning behind this?  I am not sure, though I think I have to go back to the dr. for bloodwork.  It's time to check my thyroid levels anyway; maybe my dosage needs adjustment.  If that's not the case, I will have to make an appointment.  Because I am not a fan of this.  I have NO energy.  I can barely get my work done on a good day, I never exercise and my sex drive is caput.  I am managing, but not managing well enough to stay happy.  I am trying to monitor my evening carb intake as well.  Sometimes it feels like a crash and burn kind of tired, so I wonder if I am overloading on carbs when I eat dinner with my starch-loving family.  That's no good for a variety of reasons, but it's also an easy-ish fix.  I do love carbs...but it's not worth it to feel like this.  I could close my eyes right now and I haven't even opened my bag to do work tonight.  This is not the example I want to set for my son, nor the wife I want to be for my husband.  For now, I have to fight it; hopefully, in the future, I can fix it.

Year Out and In

So only I would begin something at the end of the year.  At a time when the calendar tells us that new beginnings are ready for us as the clock strikes 12 from December 31, 2011 to January 1, 2012, I say "Why wait?"  I am motivated now and, more importantly, I have time now.
I can imagine this very well may take the path of every journal and diary I've ever begun.  As meaningful and true as my intentions were, something else always takes precedence.  I am hopeful that won't be the case, but I have to be realistic.  My motivation is different this time.
As a child, I wrote in diaries to let out my deepest secrets that no one could ever know (like who I thought was so so so so cute or that I didn't always want to make the responsible/good choice).  As a young adult, I wrote in journals to have an outlet for my thoughts that I was otherwise to busy to think.  To contemplate the limitations society was placing on me with all these rules and laws.  To sometimes find inspiration to write a really heartfelt (and sometimes good) poem.  This time I type in a blog.  I intend to use this blog to "talk" about the things I want to talk about, but I'm just not sure who will listen.  My single and/or childless friends don't necessarily want to hear about the trials and tribulations of being a working mom and though I feel confident they love my son, they can't listen as much as I want to talk about him.  Few people have an understanding of my position as a substitute teacher and what that means, particularly when it becomes littered with politics and additional work for which I am not compensated.  Sometimes talking about my "extra-curriculars" becomes such a tiresome argument for which I just don't have the energy.  And I have concerns/gripes/opinions about some friends and/or family members that I just never know if it's my place to voice out loud and even if it is, those that hear them are either defensive or over-zealous.
Don't mistake my explanation for any kind of "woe is me" stance on my life.  I have a very good life.  It's not perfect by anyone's standards, but I'm pretty happy.  I have great family, extended and immediate; great friends who are typically outside-the-box kinds of people; I have a job, for which alone I am eternally grateful, but I also happen to like for the most part the people with whom I work and interact.  Overall, not too shabby.  But despite all this, sometimes a girl needs to gripe.  Things that are not worth causing an all-night discussion because of my innate need to overstate things (which ironically drives me crazy in others).  Things not worth using precious little time I have with my family over dinner before one of us is pulled in another direction.  But things, nonetheless, for which I would be "Maternally Grateful" to get off my chest.