Jen Warman: New Freakin' Mummy


The Balancing Act


Right now my life is a giant game of Jenga.

The tower is very high, and I keep removing blocks from the foundation. Just when I think I can't possibly pile on any more blocks, I find a way to wiggle another one loose. I hold my breath—and place it on top. Amazingly, the tower hasn't come crashing down yet—but I know it's only a matter of time.

My chest feels tight with anxious anticipation. How did I get myself into this situation? 

After dealing with anxiety issues three years ago, I've really learned how to manage my life and stress. I follow three simple rules:

1) Don't commit to things unless you can do them (and wholeheartedly want to do them)

2) Exercise and eat well

3) Get enough sleep

Well, all of this has gone to shit since I have an eight-month-old baby who still doesn't sleep: I've been waking about five to six times a night for the past three weeks. He's teething, and it's hell. Or at least I assume it's his teeth. He's been extra clingy, and has a different painful cry when he wakes up.

Camilia, Advil, Tylenol, Hugs, Kisses, Rocking, Boob, Co-Sleeping. I've tried it all. Nothing results in a better sleep. I guess we'll just have to wait it out. And no, I don't want to let him cry it out. I think I've mentioned this before, but my heart is made of butter. 

Anyway, in addition to my extra-sleepless nights, we're in the process of moving. We bought a house, sold our house, and somewhere in between we need to pack. Here is a word cloud that represents my life lately:

Realtors, Inspectors, Contractors, Mountains of Paperwork, Cleaning, Organizing, Running a Business, Chasing a Baby, Five Birthday Parties, Halloween, Christmas, Husband Away for Business, Laundry, Cooking...

The list goes on and on and on. But I won't continue whining, because I'll just put you to sleep reading my blog. And then I'll be jealous of you, because you're sleeping.


So to avoid the pending doom of an anxiety attack, that I mentioned above, I've asked myself, "What can I let go of? What can I delegate? Is there anything I can do to make my life less stressful so that I don't completely crash and burn?"

And the answer is sadly, not really. (I've called in my Mom for reinforcement. She's playing with Cole as we speak.)

It's only for another month and a half, and after that, I'll be in a much better place. Figuratively, and literally.

It will be a newly renovated place. Where my boxes will be unpacked, and my wine rack will be full. I'll also have a hot tub. A glorious, glorious hot tub.

So in the meantime, if you see me at the grocery store with my dreadlocked hair (not by choice) and sweaty stained shirt, please walk by and pretend you don't know me. I don't have time to talk to you, and if I do talk to you, I probably won't be coherent. 

I might start crying and cling to your leg like a needy four year old "Please, please don't go. I have cookies. Do you like cookies? Stay. Help me. Come clean my house. Pack for me. Please." And then I'll pee on the floor because I'm actually sleep-walking and was dreaming that I was in a pool. Has that ever happened to you?

Me either. I swear.


Tell me ladies and gents, what do you do to cope with stress? And are you free in December to help me move? And paint my walls? I have cookies. Wine. And a hot tub....