I know I say this all the time, but man grad school really fucked me up.
I cannot handle the pressure of any sort of deadline hanging over my head.
This is really handy because it means I do things like clean the kids' backpacks out, file their papers, send any permission slips and checks back in their folders, and wash and pack their special snowflake bento boxes within 10 minutes pf them coming home and settling down for a snack. On my days home with the babies I also typically have the laundry washed, folded, and put away by 11:00.
But, my deadline aversion can also be really incapacitating. It's why my dissertation remains untouched 4 plus years after its defense, for example. It's why Ben did the bulk of the work on our PTO fundraiser last week, and it's why I have been procrastinating the shit out of a huge work project. There are other, less direct, consequences as well. I have stopped reading books, for example, and I have been super bitchy and nervous.
Basically, deadlines make me do one of 3 (or sometimes all 3) things: Do things super efficiently and immediately and way in advance of any sort of due date, AVOID AVOID AVOID, or completely detach and refuse to commit/start/put forth any real effort (this is slightly different than AVOID because I have usually made some sort of half-assed commitment). The last 2 things are accompanied by a healthy dose of anxiety and irritability. I guess all 3 of them are, actually, because when I am doing that laundry at 10:15 am, I AM DOING THAT LAUNDRY, and nothing is going to stop me, damnit.
When I am avoiding a deadline, I feel terrible about it all the time, even when I don't realize that I feel terrible. And I become really bad at stuff-- like reading (I mean, I CAN read, but I lose my commitment to the project and just spend my down time staring at the internet), blogging, working on Dorothy's baby book, scheduling things like holiday card pictures and after school Spanish club and babysitters for PTO meetings, and remembering to answer emails.
Then a magical thing happens. I get my shit back together, and everything goes smoother. Even minor annoyances like a baby who doesn't sleep and seemed like THE WORST THINGS IN THE WORLD when I was avoiding my work are NBD (snuggley and sweetly scented even).
All of this is a roundabout way of saying I am working on work again and the guilt is gone and I made a kickass apple pie for the first time ever.
I made her pears too thin, but it was a happy mistake because she could try oatmeal. Spoiler alert: SHE LOVES OATMEAL. I made her apples too thin on purpose today, and she had apples mixed with oatmeal and cinnamon for breakfast. Like she's a person! (I freaking love making baby food, BTW).
I have never successfully made pie crust before (secret: cube your butter and freeze it for an hour; use ice water; use a food processor to mix briefly-- we are talking little pulses between additions, and only use enough water so your crumbly dough hangs together when you pinch it).