I'm a head case.

Note: I just got an email from Rob.


Re: Do we not blog anymore?


Body of the email: "The peasants are getting restless."

I think he (and possibly my mom) are the only ones who check this every day hoping for something new, but sorry if anyone else has been crying themselves to sleep at night over my lack of posting.


"The theory describes a Type A individual as ambitious, aggressive, business-like, controlling, highly competitive, impatient, preoccupied with his or her status, time-conscious, and tightly-wound. People with Type A personalities are often high-achieving "workaholics" who multi-task, push themselves with deadlines, and hate both delays and ambivalence."*



Hmmm....  I've been known to clean out my email inbox in the middle of the night when I'm up to feed Drew.  Last night I checked ConsumerReports.com for the rating on a jogging stroller I decided I needed yesterday and am going to buy today.  I've spent most of my married life listening to my husband explain to me why it just won't WORK for me to be involved in YWA, Junior League, book club, bible study, bunko, yoga and working part time on the side.  I planned a trip to Europe where every day came complete with a schedule and instructions on EXACTLY how to get from one place to another.  I already mentioned on here that patience is not my virtue.

So yes, I think I'm pretty classic Type A.  I've certainly met worse Type A personalities, but I'm certainly part of that group.

So imagine my shock and surprise when I had a baby and I was 15 minutes late (at least) to everything, and any sort of schedule was a joke.  My Type A personality was having heart attack.  Then I went to the pediatrician who told me "Well, I can tell he is not getting enough tummy time.  He needs 45 minutes a day."

Ahh yes- challenging a Type A.  Just the thing to do.

So then I wrote about how Drew and I started "Tummy Time Boot Camp."  He had to do it.  I just prepared for the screaming and we pushed on through.  At one point I actually used the stopwatch feature on my iPhone to precisely track the number of minutes he spent on his tummy each day.

But a funny thing happened- my smiley little boy wasn't so smiley anymore.  In fact, he was just generally annoyed.  He was tired of me danging things over his head (to get him to grab), putting him on his tummy and trying to get a push up, putting him on his tummy and then pushing him over so he got the idea of rolling over, etc.  And I was miserable because we have been doing this for three days, why is he not getting it!?

And then my aunt said something this weekend while she was here that struck a cord.  "Lindsey, have you ever seen a grown adult that can't roll over?"  Good point, Anne. 

So I'm turning over a new leaf.  He is going to have more tummy time than he was getting, but if it's 15 or 30 minutes and not 45, well then, who cares.  We are going to keep playing on the floor and rolling over, but when he shows signs of being done, he is done.  He will roll over.  It will probably be sooner rather than later, but even if it is later, it will happen.

We are going to ENJOY our time together.

Because I'm a type A.  And if a type A says she's going to enjoy it, dadgumit, that's what's going to happen.



* Definition pulled from Wikipedia, so there is a very good chance it was written by a 15 year old from Des Moine, Iowa who wanted to prove to his parents that they are, indeed, type A.