I guess it's not terribly fair to call it insomnia if I'm almost always up at this hour. It just feels wrong to be wide awake at 2 AM when there is no pay involved. I'm starting to think it would be better for me to nap in the afternoon with the kids and then sleep for six or so hours at 8 or 9. It just seems to be how things want to be.
Anyway, I've been feeling a little stagnant lately. We rent, but we rent from a private owner, which means that we have certain freedoms that people in apartments owned by corporations don't have. We can paint, and I put in a new kitchen floor (with permission, thank you). But now all the major stuff is done. Except for the dozens of sewing projects and, frankly, ugh. I'm sick of sewing right now. I had a bad experience with finishing the edges of sheer fabric embroidered with metallic threads. It was the biggest pain in the ass ever.
When we had finished the painting, floor, etc., I realized that, for the most part, I was done. I have never been done before. We have lived a lot of places, most private owned, and quite a few owned by my parents. There were projects I wanted to do in all of them and in all of them we moved before they were finished and I still lament not getting those things done. But now I am done. And I feel at loose ends. It's unfamiliar, and it's not like what I thought it would be. I imagined I would bask in the glow of my finishedness, and instead I seem to be panicking and going through some sort of life crisis. I even looked at houses for sale although we're really not in a financial position to be doing so. And moving sucks.
This mood was made worse when I went to put N in his carseat tonight. It is a 5-22 pound carrier, and I realized that he was probably at the upper weight limit. His feet are hanging over the end, and the shoulder straps cannot be adjusted any higher. My baby is growing up. DH and I agreed that we would not have any more children (more on this in a minute) so I have been gathering baby paraphernalia to sell on Craigslist or something. I realized that that carseat was my last bit of little baby stuff. There will be no other stuff to get rid of until N outgrows the convertible carseat that E is currently in, the one that goes to 40 pounds. That will probably be another two years.
Now on to the stuff about babies. I don't know that I am done having kids. It was always my plan to have four children. Even now, after giving birth to two, and remembering how bad it was, I'd like to have four. At the time that we agreed that two was best, well, two was best. I certainly wouldn't have a third child now, right this minute. I can't remember the last time I got a good night's sleep and I am seriously contemplating becoming nocturnal because it would be easier. Also, I have always said that I would have an even number of kids. Odd numbers mean someone gets left out. I grew up with two siblings at home and I can attest to this fact. This means that if I have one more kid I'm committing to having two more kids. And we don't have anywhere to put two more kids, unless they are of the variety that you can fold up and store under the couch when not in use.
One major reason I said OK to only having two was that I have two sons, and I wanted (want) a daughter very badly. Nothing against boys, but I want a little girl. There are tons of reasons why, and I'm not going to justify my want. However, I have this fear that if I get pregnant again I will have another boy. And then another one after that. And then I will have four sons. Imagine all the possible broken and/or maimed appendages. I cannot or I will surely become a gibbering, drooling idiot.
So right now I just feel like I need...something. Something to happen. Although normally I am content with the day to day of my life, and I am happy with everything around me, right now I am...restless seems to be the best word. Waiting. I guess I'll know what I'm waiting for when it happens.