Head down on desk, pounding

Yeah, so this week? Not my favorite, in many ways. But a good example of how the universe takes care of me if I can just go with the flow instead of freaking out. Starting last Friday, work just exploded. Now, last week, we were sick and reeling from the hail damage and everything. Friday, my phone started ringing. Agency 1: "can you concept a zillion trade-show themes and tchotchkes and stuff?" Sure. Agency 2: "Can you write 5 direct mail letters for us?" Oh, no problem. 3: "Can you concept two campaigns containing 6 ads in a week?" 4: "How 'bout writing this big honkin' binder of stuff for us?" 5: "And would you mind taking a stab at this company's entire copy tone and messaging ?" 6: "What about this e-newsletter?" Yeah, sure, gotcha, gotcha. Screeeeeeeccchhhhhhhhhhh. Duh-wha? I worked Sunday. I worked late Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. I drove from agency to agency, eating lunch on the way and con-calling people on my cell phone. I dropped Mike at work each morning and left him carless, going on to careen my way around town in a mad frenzy of work. Luckily, that much-vaunted 2nd trimester energy has come along, or I'd be dead. But even The Bud had enough when I worked until 11:30 Weds night. I ended up half-puking at midnight. Yes, making you upchuck = the fetal idea of a temper tantrum. STOP! STOP! STOP! Yesterday, I had a meltdown. Multiple projects for 6-7 different clients in a week and a half is just too much. I cried uncle. I cried. I felt like a failure and an unprofessional dweeb. Suddenly, much of it lifted. I told one client I couldn't handle their project because the scope was way more than I thought I signed on for. Another called and said they could take the rest of the project from there. A third was late for the input session conference call, so we're working via email and my deliverable will be delayed. And just now, a fourth said they were good to go with what I already provided. This means I only have to work about half a day on Sunday, or maybe six hours. I can catch my breath. I know this is the universe providing for us. I have the ability to make extra money, being self-employed. The work is abundant right now, and I'm just doing the best I can with all of it. When I can't handle any more, it ebbs a little. We're going to have to buy a new car, get the roof replaced ($1000 deductible), and move ahead with the kitchen because if we wait til the kid gets here, it'll never happen...and we hate our kitchen. And I know that I will, one way or another, save enough for my maternity leave too (another curse of self-employment: No paid maternity leave unless you earn it ahead of time). It may just be a bumpy road. I wish I liked rollercoasters, but I don't.