Weekend Warrior

The major changes in my life have mostly come in bunches. Six months of 2002 saw my college graduation, Catholic confirmation, my first job, a new apartment and our first pregnancy. In the summer of 2004, we packed up and moved across the country for a new job, a new apartment and a new start in place where we knew almost no one. Now here we go again in 2008—we've got a new baby on the way, we moved into a new apartment and bought our first new car in February, and my brother's getting married in May (which requires a couple of trips back to the heartland, not that I mind). So with every spare evening and weekend of the last three months, that's what I've been doing: disassembling and reassembling old Ikea furniture, assembling new Ikea furniture, packing and unpacking, watching both cars break down (one temporarily, one irreparably), figuring out how to buy a new car, taking on more debt than I ever have before, all while trying to preserve a thread of the intention of Lent, celebrate Easter and Ivan's birthday, and jet off to Minnesota.

Times like these trigger some kind of survival mechanism in me. I compartmentalize everything, family included, into categories and tasks, make lists to prioritize and worry over, and then put my head down and power through. This is a good approach for getting things done and for forgetting why you're doing them. I have come up for air a few times this year—sledding with the kids, a long weekend in Minneapolis, a Mets game last weekend—but for the most part the last three months have been a long slog through an endless list of tedious tasks that left little time to spend with the family that I'm doing everything for and not a trace of creative inspiration. The nose-to-the-grindstone method is also a frighteningly effective way to pass the time. I woke up earlier this week to discover that Dinka's 38-week appointment with the midwife was that afternoon. As in, two weeks to go, time to buckle down. I thought I was already buckled.

While I'd like to say that this is all about to change, that soon my work will be done and I'll have time to answer my emails, take pictures and watch movies (these are as lofty as my goals get these days), I'm not sure that will be the case. My hope is that no matter how many items are left on my lists when the baby is born, his birth will remind me of my real priorities and let the rest wash away or at least wait patiently. No pressure, son.