Matt asked me last night if I'm retired from blogging. I'm not, but I don't blame anyone for thinking that. I feel like I use most of my waking hours more efficiently than ever before, but nevertheless I have less leisure time than ever before. When I do have "free" time I tend to spend it straightening the house (which I'd be way slacker about except for its being on the market), folding diapers, organizing coupons, paying bills, reading books about child development and discipline as fast as I can, etc., etc.
Having Claire in Mom's Morning Out twice a week helps a lot, but those hours fill up fast with work, both real estate and writing. Then there's the ever-more-frequent doctor's appointments, squeezed-in coffee dates so I don't forget what my friends look like, and just enough running to not feel disgusting. Finally, I'm whittling down a to-do list of minor but necessary things to finish before Evan's born (from painting Claire's "new" dresser -- a $35 find at Sandhills Coalition -- to buying her a toddler car seat so Evan can have her infant one).
All told, I have to believe I won't be caught up until sometime next year. Or maybe the next year. (I did finally send out thank-you notes for Claire's birthday, though -- only two months late. Hey, it's something.)
I'm not complaining and hope it doesn't sound that way. I'd choose too much to do over too little to do any day, as long as I'm getting enough sleep. I enjoy almost all of the things that are filling my days and I think they are valuable, or at least necessary, not simply busywork. Plus I'm married to the world's MOST amazing and supportive man, so most days I still feel more energized than overwhelmed. Most days.