Not liking what we get when we ask for it

So Lola spent her fourth night out of our bedroom, in the "kid room". Why am I so sad? I actually got to sleep almost through the night. For the first time in her 12 months of life. I shouldn't be complaining.

But she was born in that bedroom (OK not really, she actually dropped onto our living room carpet after a whopping 21 minutes of labor) and has spent nights in our bed and nights in our overpriced crib we bought after we chucked the last one thinking "Two's enough kids for us!" and nursed through the nights there and was rocked to sleep there and I'M DONE WITH BABIES WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH.

But maybe I'm sad because I'm not sad, and I feel like I should be, and I feel like sharing our room should have been something I never wanted to give up but really I just desperately wanted to have sex without holding by breath for fear of waking her.

Sometimes I feel paralyzed by the feelings I should have and feeling guilty over the feelings I am not having. Right now, life is hard. Three kids is not the problem, it is managing five lives that hard. I am clawing my way to the end of school.

I must go wake up Lola from her morning nap (early) to put her and Zada in the car to drive to Isaac's school to stand for two hours to see ten minutes of dancing from the first grade. If only the kindergarten, second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth grades would mysteriously forego their turns. Then I must come home. Then I must take preschooler to 1:00pm preschool drop off. Then I must pick up first grader at 1:45pm. Then I must scurry home for baby's nap. Then I must cook dinner. Then I must pick up preschooler at 5pm. Did I mention that I took first grader to school at 7:45am and went to the grocery store and was home by 8:30am?

There are good days and bad days, and good bad days and bad good days. The jury is still out on this one.

Hrumpfff.