And the icing on the cake of chaos that has been my life of late is this…

My husband and I rent a condo from a military guy who’s been stationed in North Carolina. We’ve been there for three years and love it. He just called my husband a few minutes ago to tell him that we have to be out in 30 days because he wants to move in.

Ha!

So we have until September 30 to find a place, pack, and move. Every weekend in September except for one was booked. I say “was” because we’re going to need to cancel things so we have weekends free for packing.

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

The past couple of weeks have been a real whirlwind. My team at work has been simultaneously short-staffed and over-tasked, which has resulted in stress, long hours, stress, frustration, stress, missed workouts, stress, not cleaning the house, and stress. On top of that, I’ve got two websites to write for–Semi-Charmed Wife, which as you all know, has been woefully neglected of late, and the Examiner.

My husband and I have obligations/plans for the next four weekends, which gives me little time to recuperate/catch up/regain a tenuous relationship with my sanity and means that I have to squeeze all of my writing into the few hours between the time I get home from work and the time I go to sleep. As you can probably imagine, sitting at the computer is EXACTLY WHAT I WANT TO DO after a long, stressful day at work of sitting at the computer.

(Note: It is exactly THE OPPOSITE of what I want to do, which is de-stress and/or sleep.)

Then there’s that whole pregnant thing. Yeah. Apparently, it makes me a wee bit emotional/hormonal, not to mention that I could easily sleep 16 hours a day if I were allowed to do so. And I’m a bit worried. I’ve lost some weight over the past few weeks (not much–just a few pounds), which my doctor assures me is totally normal for the first trimester, but I can’t help but wonder if the constant stress of the pressure cooker that is my life might have something to do with it.

My husband and I talked, and I’ve come to the conclusion that–contrary to what I want to believe–I can’t keep going at this breakneck pace right now. It’s not good for me, and I can’t imagine it’s good for the baby.

I’m going to talk to my editor at the Examiner and see if I can cut back to posting 1-2 times per week. Seeing as she just emailed me to request that I start posting every day (I’ve been posting 4x/week and am only obligated to post 3x/week), I have serious doubts as to whether she’ll agree to my request. If she doesn’t, as much as I’d hate to, I think I’ll have to resign. The alternative would be giving up Semi-Charmed Wife, and I get too much joy/inspiration from it to even contemplate doing that.

Though I know that this decision is in my best interests, I hate being in this position. It’s hard to admit that I can’t do something, and I’m struggling not to feel like a quitter. Again, I know intellectually that I’m doing the right thing, but emotionally, it’s a different story.

Have you ever been in a similar situation? How did you handle it? I need advice!

I’ve been meaning to post this, but I’ve been drowning in work. I’m talking 14 hour days kind of drowning. Drinking out of a fire hose kind of drowning. Reduce the pregnant lady to tears and tantrums kind of drowning.

I’m second-in-command to a team of six at work. My boss’s wife just had her baby on Saturday, so he’s been out all week. Another one of our employees had his last day on Friday and his replacement is still waiting on her security clearance and can’t start for (probably) about six more weeks. Another of the employees just started on Monday, so she can’t really do much. That means that the work of six people is now effectively being done by three people.

On top of that, it’s one of the busiest weeks for our team since we started working for this particular client. I have 17 (not an exaggeration) written products due by Friday, which would typically take six people about three weeks. Yeah.

I’m going to take the rest of the week off from Semi-Charmed Wife, which I’ve never done before. Wish me luck & keep me in your thoughts! I’ll see you on Monday…

#30 on my 101 Things list has nearly killed me.

Zandria and I (along with my dear friend Amy & her friend) just took a strip aerobics class at The P Spot. I am not at all exaggerating when I say that the 45 minutes I spend rocking my hips and dropping it like it was hot were among the most challenging of my life.

Before I found out that I had someone riding shotgun, I was training for a marathon. Three weeks ago tomorrow, I ran 12 miles for my last long run. I’ve been seeing a personal trainer for months. I am, it’s fair to say, in pretty damn good shape. But this class? This class reduced me to a thigh-quivering mass of jello within about 5 minutes.

I have a newfound respect for strippers.

Here’s the instructor, Michaela (who is a certified personal trainer and owns her own business):

Yeah. Remember when I said I was in pretty damn good shape? Michaela is in absolutely frigging phenomenal shape.

She’s also very persuasive, as she managed to convinced me and my friend Amy to wear “the shoes” for the class. “The shoes” in question are 6-inch platform heels. I’m already 5′9″. You do the math. I looked like a giant awkward drag queen. Behold the shoe.

Both Zandria and I had worked up quite a sweat by the end of the class!

I would DEFINITELY go back–this was a phenomenal workout!

Image from http://www.istockphoto.com/file_thumbview_approve/2577305/
2/istockphoto_2577305_pour_wine_into_glass.jpg.

I and–I feel fairly confident making this assumption–many of my readers tend to take on too much. At any given moment, we’re juggling the demands of our primary job, perhaps an extra or freelance gig or two, our families, our friends and social lives, our marriages or relationships, our health and fitness, our hobbies, and our churches, charities, or volunteer organizations. Our plates are pretty darn full. Sometimes, we just don’t know when to say when.

Your husband (partner/friend/family member/coworker) may ask, as mine has of late, why don’t you just not do some of this stuff?

To which I reply by chucking my overstuffed day planner at him, laughing maniacally, and running off into the sunset. (Note to men: This is NOT what you should say to your overworked, overstressed wife who is balancing a full-time job, a part-time job–my Examiner page, which launched yesterday, a website, and an overpacked social calendar ALL WHILE BUILDING A HUMAN. I’m just saying, word to the wise.)

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