The deed is done. I am without children today. Another loving, responsible adult whom my children adore is now in charge of them two days each week. After two weeks of angsty deliberation, it turned out to be a pretty simple addition to an existing arrangement. I am a professional at overcomplicating my own life.
Today I am enjoying my independence. I can't decide whether I should use these days for whatever strikes my fancy, or try to be organized and accomplish something over the long term. I'd like to accomplish something that I can look at and feel pleased about about, but I don't want to create any additional stress. The point is to decompress and recharge for the remainder of the week.
The last time I remember feeling a clear, satisfying sense of accomplishment (this is embarrassing) is when I did back-to-school shopping for my son. There was a list, I made one trip to get everything on the list, and came home with bags full of stuff to show for it. I felt so pleased about that. There have been plenty of other shopping trips since, but one in an endless series of grocery lists and diaper runs does not provide the same sense of completion.