and so i sit. alone. again. you'd think that i would get used to it. but no such luck. and maybe that's a good thing. i reckon if you get used to it, then things would be even worse. even now a two year old screams at me because i'm not meeting her every whimsical demand. more water. i want milk. give me that dolly. then there's the six year old who constantly reminds me that i'm the worst mother in the world. and i am. i made her go to bed. i made her brush her teeth. simply awful.
sometimes i sit and wonder how i got here. everything seems to have swirled me by. not that i mind where i am. i just need to check out every now and again. there's only so much blood curling screams one can take. only so many poopy diapers one can change (32,850 diapers so far). only so many days one can do this alone.
people jokingly ask how i do this day in and day out. the truth is, i have no idea. i pull myself out of bed each morning and pour myself into bed each night. then they want to know if i'm on medication. i've thought about. especially after last year's bid of woe. but truthfully, i don't think it would help my situation. i want my husband home. it's that simple. sometimes i want him so badly i can taste his kiss. smell his aftershave. feel his touch. then i wake up.
the kids miss him too. jack is having trouble controlling his temper. he's angry that his dad's not home. lily blames me. i let her. i'd rather her resent me than her dad. girls can't stay mad at their mom, but they carry the wounds of their fathers forever. the twins are feisty. they've started fighting dirty with each other. pulling hair. scratching. throwing toys. i feel simply out of control.
all my life i've tried so hard to do things right. make everyone happy. take care of my folks. please them. straight a's. engineer. white picket fence; dear abby to my friends. listen. love. support; devoted wife. devoted mother. for better or worse. in sickness and in health. richer or poorer.
sometimes i feel like such a fraud. i have to put on the face of the good mom. but the truth is, i'm just winging it. praying that i don't screw them up too badly. and hoping that i don't lose too much more of myself in the process.
what's the secret? how do you do it all? how do you give as much as you need to give and possibly have anything left over?
i could go back to work. but then i'd have to put the kids in daycare and i don't feel good about that. then i'd have to rush to get them there, rush to pick them up, rush to make dinner, give bathes, tuck into bed. and with doug's traveling schedule, i'd be flying solo anyway. and i'm not sure that the 8 hours of sanity would out weigh the rest of the crazed day. it would just add more stress and eventually cause resentment and i can't live with that. but i can't do this either. i'm stressed. i'm weary. i cry alot. alot. at night. in the shower. on the rare instances when i'm alone in the car. i can't let the kids see me. it's not fair to put this on them. i can't let mom see me. she's too fragile. my friends carry their own burdens: miscarriages, crappy husbands, special needs children, stressful jobs, sick parents, school events, summer sports. they don't need anything else on their plate. so here's my cathardic attempt at self therapy. something's gotta give.
something's gotta give.
sometimes i sit and wonder how i got here. everything seems to have swirled me by. not that i mind where i am. i just need to check out every now and again. there's only so much blood curling screams one can take. only so many poopy diapers one can change (32,850 diapers so far). only so many days one can do this alone.
people jokingly ask how i do this day in and day out. the truth is, i have no idea. i pull myself out of bed each morning and pour myself into bed each night. then they want to know if i'm on medication. i've thought about. especially after last year's bid of woe. but truthfully, i don't think it would help my situation. i want my husband home. it's that simple. sometimes i want him so badly i can taste his kiss. smell his aftershave. feel his touch. then i wake up.
the kids miss him too. jack is having trouble controlling his temper. he's angry that his dad's not home. lily blames me. i let her. i'd rather her resent me than her dad. girls can't stay mad at their mom, but they carry the wounds of their fathers forever. the twins are feisty. they've started fighting dirty with each other. pulling hair. scratching. throwing toys. i feel simply out of control.
all my life i've tried so hard to do things right. make everyone happy. take care of my folks. please them. straight a's. engineer. white picket fence; dear abby to my friends. listen. love. support; devoted wife. devoted mother. for better or worse. in sickness and in health. richer or poorer.
sometimes i feel like such a fraud. i have to put on the face of the good mom. but the truth is, i'm just winging it. praying that i don't screw them up too badly. and hoping that i don't lose too much more of myself in the process.
what's the secret? how do you do it all? how do you give as much as you need to give and possibly have anything left over?
i could go back to work. but then i'd have to put the kids in daycare and i don't feel good about that. then i'd have to rush to get them there, rush to pick them up, rush to make dinner, give bathes, tuck into bed. and with doug's traveling schedule, i'd be flying solo anyway. and i'm not sure that the 8 hours of sanity would out weigh the rest of the crazed day. it would just add more stress and eventually cause resentment and i can't live with that. but i can't do this either. i'm stressed. i'm weary. i cry alot. alot. at night. in the shower. on the rare instances when i'm alone in the car. i can't let the kids see me. it's not fair to put this on them. i can't let mom see me. she's too fragile. my friends carry their own burdens: miscarriages, crappy husbands, special needs children, stressful jobs, sick parents, school events, summer sports. they don't need anything else on their plate. so here's my cathardic attempt at self therapy. something's gotta give.
something's gotta give.
2 comments:
This too shall pass. It's not much comfort now, but in 10 years, I see you, me, Steve, Doug, on a peaceful vacation in Italy with NO KIDS.
Trust me, it will happen. We may be completely nuts by then, but it will happen.
that is what gin and tonic are for. Lolly don't lose yourself. Take a small amount of time everyday to remember who you are. You know my situation and where I am at. This is how I ended up where I am. Besides, you have been waaaay toooo goood for waaaay tooo loooong. Go raise some hell, ill provide the bail money.
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