Sometimes we are unhappy...

This week 6 has brought Atticus ravenous hunger and a new kind of frustrated fussiness. He continues to be a sweet-natured, mostly happy and watchful little person, but this jump in growth and wakefulness has been challenging for him (and us). Two nights ago after Atticus had slept well for a couple days during the day so I had been able to clean parts of the house and catch up on laundry, and after Brad had been home to give me time to myself, and after Atticus had slept for two 3-hour intervals over a night, I felt that motherhood was wonderful and not too hard and that I might be able to "do this". Today he and I both slept poorly last night and my house is dirty and I need to do some errands that I will not get done today and we are looking at 7 days of continuous travel starting tomorrow evening, and Atticus is in his crib crying (I'm giving him 5 minutes to cry since he has been fed and changed and I tried reading, plkaying with him, walking with him, rocking him, letting him play on the floor, and putting on soothing music.... He needs to sleep...) -- well, I am pretty frayed. I wrote for a few minutes last night while Brad gave Atticus his bedtime bottle. Afterwards the weight of all that I want to do and be and the limitations of my time and self felt terrible and familiar -- an unwelcome return of my old panic. Too much life, too many desires, too many people to know and care for, too much and not enough. I am not enough for it. I know that God is sufficient...that he gives all we need for life and godliness, as Peter tells us. I know that anxiousness, panic and despair all stem from a lack of trusting God's utter control of all of life. But I want so very hard and deep to live life full-tilt and right-ly. To those who are given much, much is required -- not for salvation -- Christ began and finished this work already -- I am safe in Christ before God the Father. But much is required reads to me as if we are given abundant good things, resources, it is only right, empirically RIGHT for us to give out of this abundance.
Today on shabby sleep I sit rocking my young son in my lap listening to John Fahey (album The Transfiguration of Blind Joe's Death) while typing this with one hand. I feel thin-souled, yet Christ, my Strength, my Life, holds me still. All is well.