My youngest is a live wire, always in motion, never tired. When he was crawling across the living room (at 5 1/2 months old), Mom watched for a moment, turned to me and said, “That one’s going to be hell on wheels. Good luck.”
He’s a third son, I’m a third son, and I think my parents are enjoying vicarious revenge against me, through him. I remember the days of boundless energy; go all day, party all night, sleep three hours, and do it all over again.
Those day? Gone.
This week was a slow week, up until it wasn’t. Thursday after lunch a pile of critical work dropped on my head, and I had to get it cranked out by close of business Friday, while preparing for Kid 2’s 13th birthday weekend.
By bed time last night, I was spent and today I’m seriously dragging ass, even after a full night’s sleep.
This is life in the final act. You don’t have the energy, either mental or physical, to do everything. Yet, as the father of three young boys, you’re expected, to do everything.
Focus and Decision
You have to focus. To husband your energy, and choose.
So, I focus on fewer things, and attempt to do them better.
I’m not supposed to be writing just now, I’m supposed to be cleaning up after the part, but I’m tired, and need a small rest.
I’m also supposed to be maintaining my daily writing streak. So, out of efficiency, and the stubborn refusal to break the streak, I’m combining tasks, rest with writing.
So it is with the mid life turn. There are so many things I can do, and want to do, yet I just don’t have the energy for them all.