Well the past 24 hours have been quite a treat. My eye is twitching. Like jello. In an earthquake. I’m seriously going to lose my mind, I mean, what’s left anyway. Yesterday after work, I had the realization that I had about 6 hours worth of stuff to do, and about 20 minutes of energy left. I really didn’t give a rip about anything. I picked the kids up from their mom’s after school, and they all excitedly asked (which is a nice testament to my cooking) “What’s for dinner?!” I flatly said “sloppy joes”. There was a uniform “awww” through the car. The youngest informed me “I don’t want to eat that”. I joyfully replied “well, I don’t want to cook it, so everybody’s happy!” We get home and I just collapse. I have nothing left in me, overtired, crazy weekend, crazy week. Ugh. I lay on the couch and hear the kids upstairs giggling like nutjobs. The middle child comes downstairs, chuckling to herself and says “Jessie, look! I have a new friend.” She lifts her shirt to show her belly, and in permanent marker there is a big smiley face that says “George” under it. She tells me “look I can make him talk” and squeezes her tummy while making cookie monster sounds. I look at her like she has completely lost her mind and just say “yeah, you should show your mom that, I’m sure she’ll be proud”. Now she is 12, so it’s not like a kindergartener got into the markers and made a funny. There was thought behind this. After dinner I take her to buy shoes and she tells me about school and how she’s the only one that can make her overly-serious teacher smile and I tell her that her weirdness has a purpose. She shouldn’t worry about what other people say or think. She should be proud of who she is. That was a nice moment, we never used to have those between us. But I enjoy those little things where I can help her figure out who she is.
Back at home, the youngest child is ranting about track and field day. She needs gloves and a shovel and wants mine. I tell her no, she can’t have mine, she will leave them at her mom’s (since the next day – today – is not our day with them). This morning, she asks to leave early to get what she needs, she puts on some basketball shorts, packs a pair of pants, water bottles, some towels and some other things. She gets a shovel and gloves from her mom’s and then I drop her off at school. Upon leaving the parking lot, the middle child calls me. It’s not track and field day. I just laugh and continue on my way, there’s nothing I can do. But chuckle. I hope one day she learns to pay attention, but in the mean time, it’s kinda funny.
Parenting is complicated and tiring. If I had my own children, there’s no way I could work, and my hat is off to women who do it. My mom dealt with it by drinking, and I suppose that’s one way to do it. It’s tiring in that your time is not yours. Your schedule revolves entirely around the care and well-being of someone else. It takes a lot of energy, and you can easily forget that you need care, too. And that you are a spouse, and have to keep a healthy marriage. Those two things are easy to drop, and hard to recover. I am in the “recovery” process now, and it takes a lot of time, patience and prayer.
Last night, before I gave up and went to bed around 8:30, I was trying to tell my husband what we needed to do this weekend. I was so tired, it was taking about 5 minutes per sentence because I couldn’t remember words. Like at all. Then he says “it’s my birthday weekend”. My response: expletive, facepalm. Guess it’s a good weekend for that “recovery” thing.