Some days it feels like my life is a sandwich piled too high for me to lift, let alone digest.
I sort through my list of "to do"s as if they are groceries and think, "What can I take out of the cart?" How can I take some meat or cheese or lettuce or tomato or mustard or mayo off all that I sandwich into my days? What adds flavor and spice, and what is simply oozing out and making a mess?
It comes to this: How do I spend my time? How would I rather spend it?
Like many women in their late 30s, I am a working mother, a wife, a daughter, a sister and a friend. I have trouble saying no. And I have even more trouble after I say yes.
I am over-committed and under-satisfied.
I'm a natural multi-tasker. In high school, I could do my homework, talk on the phone and watch TV, all at the same time. These days, I talk on the phone, answer e-mail and surf the Internet simultaneously.
But I often feel I'm not doing anything fully or well. My attention is diverted from what's happening to what's next.
Still, I don't want to give up anything that matters to me: Evenings with my son and husband, books I love to read, writing, and working with other mothers as they capture and share their experiences.
I don't want to do less. I want to have more time.
I want to add exercising, playing piano and learning to garden to my list. We're about to move into a new home and I want to make it ours, spending days browsing boutiques for knick-knacks that fill just the right sunny spot in the kitchen. I want to call my aunt who has been sick and my sister-in-law when she's struggling. I want to spend more time at temple, learning and celebrating Shabbat with rest.
And yet at the end of most days, when I look back on all I've accomplished, I feel great and full. Sometimes bloated.
At the end of my 30s, I want to look back on the years and know that it's the quality of emotional calories that fuel me, not just the quantity that fills me.
I want to see a life sliced thinner, with a subtler texture and taste -- a bite-sized life where I'm never chewing on more than I can swallow.
And I want to look forward, to menopause especially, when I'll need less sleep.
Julie Moos is a thirtysomething who lives with her husband and son. Her column appears every other Thursday. To read more of her thoughts, visit MomInTheMirror.com.
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