The Push

It's already started, and only a week of the semester has passed. My face is breaking out. The dishes from last night are unwashed. There are clothes that are probably mildewing in the washing machine as we speak. Worst is the sense of hopelessness. I told my mother that if I could just take ONE of my professional responsibilities off of my plate, I think I could be sane. But of course that's not possible, so my only choice is to try to manage myself such that others don't realize I've completely lost my mind. This weekend my absolutely-have-to-do list included:
My fourth year appraisal form completed (at least 2 hours of work)
Work for Dianne (everyone in the project contacted, plus a draft of materials for the conference workshop or at least an outline, location of grants and contacting of people in the government)
Syllabus for my undergraduate class done and ready to be copied, website updated and current, postings to web in response to students...
Emails to all recommenders for the position I'm applying for (that one is actually DONE)
Responding to Ann's draft
Finish cover letter
Complete readings for both classes (approximately 150 pages)
Email advisee about grant application due in two weeks, and his recommenders
Email faculty affiliated with my course, set meetings for the semester
Significant work on my article
Significant work on my chapter (due at the end of the month)
Planning for next week (next week is actually today)--including, research project, research writing time, and plans for classes

And so, all of that is supposed to be done by midnight tonight, and it's 7:48am, which means that A. has already given me some unanticipated work time. But how to do all of this? When I try to work while A. is awake, she comes and stands next to my computer. She stares into my eyes (this alone is torture). She puts her hand on the laptop as if by touching it, she can absorb some of the magnetic energy that keeps me attached to it, clicking away. I feel so sad about that, most of all. What am I doing to her 2 1/2 year old brain? What teenage angst is being cultured? It would be less painful if she didn't look so much like me. I showed S.O. some of my kid pictures and he said it was like looking at A. at 7, 10, 14.

I know, already, that damage has been done. It doesn't take much to know that if your kid watches tv when they wake up (1 hour), tv when they come home from day care (anywhere from 1 1/2 to 3 1/2 hrs during the day, plus 2 hours of what grownups are watching), tv on the weekend (5-7 hours of the tv being on, although she plays after about 2 hours and stops to stare at the tube intermittently) that there is something wrong. So, as a "test" I turned the tv off 1 hour after she'd gotten up from her nap yesterday. It took two hours before both of us were in tv withdrawal. Fifty times, at least "Mommy I wanna watch some tv. I wanna watch tv, I wanna turn the tv on."

Me: "no."
A: "Yes!"
Me: "No."
A: "Yes!!!"
Me: "A, I said NO."
A: "YESSSS!! I wanna watch tv!" (tears and snot commence).

And the kicker? I wanted SOOO badly to turn it on. Not for her, but for myself. There should be a cigarette-type warning etched into the screen. But, I didn't turn it on...One small step for overworking mothers everywhere, one giant step for F.E.Wright.