Sorry for the slow posting - very busy life.
Work is good. Too busy, too exciting, too many hours. And strangely, I'm so used to NOT loving my job that I've had a harder time coping at home. When work was sucking my soul out my eyeballs every day, coming home - no matter how noisy, messy, or overwhelming - was always refuge.
Only, now, work is fabu-freaking-losa. I like my coworkers, they like me, I'm doing interesting stuff, I pretty much get to play most days, or do work I'm well-qualified for... people ask my opinion and take it seriously, and any time I suggest that maybe I'm not 'all that', my boss tells whoever is listening that I'm just modest, and they're amazingly lucky to have someone of my caliber and experience. Uh, okay, sure. I like the flattery, and for some things I know they're right (and others they're probably right, but I don't know it all the way down yet, and some they're not quite that right, but they don't care because I'm still better than what they have already). Pressure is on to perform to expectations, but ... you know, it's nice to be appreciated.
And then there's home, where the kids want to be carried, fed, and attended to, they all want my attention at once, they fight going to bed, they try to dodge going to sleep, and at the moment I have no idea how to handle Miss R - she has my number, and dials it frequently, and I have no clue how to handle it yet. She's very 'you can't make me' right now. ARGH. Hate that stage.
Sigh. So, coming home not quite the refuge and shelter it had been, and that means I'm not quite as overtly grateful about stuff as usual, and that means ep ends up feeling resentful and unappreciated (which is totally valid), and that means we grump at each other more, and that makes work look even better by comparison... oy. At least I realized this weekend what the trigger point was (the whole 'wait, work rocks, home is lumpy, I'm not being terribly appreciative of the home front stuff, and I know how much I hated that feeling when the situation was reversed, so... uh. whoops? wince.). And then there's further lumpiness over the grouchiness with each-other, and that cycles, and then we don't work in unison quite so much as usual, and lumpity lump lump. Ouchies.
Though when we start rolling and clicking in tune again (like when we encountered a lovely expectant mom of twins through a school connection) we slip right back into gear with each-other. Nice to have the reminder about how smoothly we work together when we're working the same project. It's an automatic 'got your back' feeling, picking up gaps, handing off the tasks between us, rolling from one area of focus to another, easy handoff. Lovely. I miss that on the parenting front. And if I work late, by the time I get home, it's now harder to just shift into parallel gears because he's already past his margin, and I'm not yet up to speed on the transition, so gears grind yet again. At least now we have a sense of where the gear grind is coming from, so we can true that up. It works better on the weekends, but weekday evenings have sucked a bit, all around. Bleah.
And then there's my other stressor - endometrial biopsy tomorrow. My cycles have been getting worse instead of better as I've been getting older and closer to menopause (probably at least partly due to being hyperovulatory - more than one crop of eggs a month means thicker endometrium). But rather than just assuming that it is thicker for normal-ish reasons, we're checking into it. More, because having twin girls pushes risk of estrogen-related cancers up (due to the double estrogen loading). So we're being cautious, and doing the biopsy route. Likely I'm just in the normal-range 'heavy flow' camp, and the procedure (D&C, hysteroscopy) will shift everything in the right direction anyway. But if not, better to catch it early than to wait and see too long.
I'm less worried about the biopsy results than about the anesthesia. I've never had general anesthesia before. Even if I had endometrial cancer, likely it would be very early, and while treament wouldn't be fun (by any means), prognosis isn't too scary on the early ones. And for some reason, people messing about inside my uterus is not a problem - I've had an OB's hand inside my uterus before (fishing out Miss R), so that doesn't weird me at all. It's the never-been-done part that usually bugs me, since I don't know how I'll react to it.
Getting older. Have to think about these things. Definitely out of warranty, and starting to lose parts on the highway.
Ah, well. The engine is still running, at least!