The Sunday Funk

You'd think the day we "spring forward" our clocks would put me in a better mood. It puts sunset an hour later, after all, and it's a sign that winter should be ending soon. Unfortunately, we're still up to our eyeballs in snow, it's still colder than a witch's teet outside (what does that even mean?), and Stu and I are in our Sunday Funk.

The Sunday Funk has become a weekly ritual. Every Sunday afternoon, we have the same conversations about how long we want to stay in Madison and when we'll move south - not just because we're tired of long winters, but also because we want to be closer to family - and if we move, where exactly that will be. Then we talk about how the housing market and the economy are tanking, so we're probably better off staying right here for now, despite our restlessness. And then we get all stir-crazy and try to think of an reason to get out of the house, and that usually turns out to be either a trip to a coffee shop for lattés and cocoa or a trip to the library.

It's getting old. I want to dig in my garden. We want to go to the park and take walks and bike rides and fire up the grill. We wish we lived close enough to either our parents or siblings or Steph and Eric that we could just go hang out with them instead of having the same glum "what next" conversation every damn Sunday afternoon.

I also want to have more direction in my life. Or how about any direction at all? Obviously, my children demand nearly all of my time and attention, so it's not as though I'm serving no useful purpose. But it's too early for me to start a serious job search, and even most accompanying gigs aren't worth the cost and trouble of all those extra babysitting hours. I end up knitting a lot because it's something I can do on and off during the day if Anya's sleeping while I keep an eye on Daniel. In fact, knitting is just about the only extracurricular thing I've got going right now, and while it's resulted in some very nice warm winter hats for the family, it's a little sad considering I have a doctorate and everything.

My little family fills me so completely with love and joy. At the same time, when I think about what I'm doing with my own life right now - cooking, laundry, knitting when I can - I get anxious and a tad existential. I don't know how to explain adequately how I'm pulled so far in these different directions.

That is why I decided, a couple weeks ago, that I should get out of here for a week or so. Next weekend I'm taking Daniel and Anya to Kentucky for a week to visit my parents. I miss them, they miss us, Stuart will have a week of bachelorhood to look forward to (he can't take a week off work on this late notice), and presumably it will be above freezing at least part of the time. I sure hope so. I could use a shot of sunshine.