"Doing too much"

I crashed at work today. Got dizzy, queasy and couldn't focus. Dry mouth, pale, the whole thing. There's been some stupid stomach bug going around and I think it managed to sneak up on me in a moment of low resistance.

So, I came home (not really remembering the drive too well) and crashed on the couch. The kids and David eventually trickled in (David, mercifully, with pizza - I don't know how I was going to manage tonight's planned chicken dinner. Queasiness and raw chicken just don't mix).

As evening approaches, I feel slightly more lucid, though my stomach is swirling with flat Coke and my brain is swirling with today's proclamation from the older generation: "Carolyn, you've been doing too much lately."

The thing with being a working mom is that you have to do a lot. The thing with being a mom is that you have to do a lot. The thing with being a human being who wants to stay sane is that you have to do a lot.

And so I do it.

It's only a problem when some nasty virus finds its way around my defenses. Then the work, the family, the kids, the house, the running, the coaching - the living - are suddenly quantifiable. And, inevitable, the quantity is "too much."

I don't have it in me to accept the notion that my life makes me sick. Were that the case, I'd have to either start medicating or just close up shop altogether.

It's a stomach bug, and I hope it doesn't last a lot longer. I've got too much to do.