Sunday morning

I get the impression that despite the multiple wakings and the bad early morning juju, baby Peanut really likes our late Sunday mornings. We're usually up and about at 7:30 am during the week, and though he gets his first nap around 9, Sundays he can just sort of do this dance between my bedside/his pack and play  where he gets to nap while I hope for another half an hour of extra sleep.

I had a pretty anxiety filled night, with to-do lists composing in my head about all the things left to do at K's house, along with mild panic about the rain washing away the construction material at H&C's new entryway that we are purposely renovating to help with the flooding that happens whenever there's flash storms. So... Uhm. Hopefully that didn't happen. I kept trying a mental exercise where I put all my worries in a plate, and then cast them away. Which led to an odd dream where I couldn't pictures my worries as anything other than water and the plate became a kiddy pool and I tried to throw the water into a garden but it spilled on the way and only a trickle reached the grass. 

I feel like there's got to be a way to put these things in perspective and get a grip. Every time I manage some eye-of-the-storm peace I become super productive and get a lot of stuff done and find assertiveness to deal with people, but it only lasts a day or so and then it's back to my tremulous grip on my rampant worries and fears. Lately I picture scenarios of someone breaking into the house (a fear that's plagued me since we married) but with a twist of someone taking the baby hostage or trying to steal him and what would I do, what would I do?

It's a good thing I have these guys and our Sunday mornings to shup up the crazy voices in my head.