Miserable
I just can’t get a handle on things. There’s so darn much to do, and I just cannot get caught up, much less get ahead.
The phone rang tonight, and I answered it without looking at the caller ID, thinking it was my friend who called today in tears to tell me that her husband wants her out of their home. It was another annoying political call. I freaked. Ran to my room crying and sobbing my head off. Scared heck out of the kids.
Didn’t help that my mother saw the house today. The kids didn’t wear coats this morning, and she came over to get them. The house looks like hell — and she was not impressed. With every right in the world. But I’m trying so damn hard, and I just can’t get there.
Sigh.
The weekend will be here soon. The kids are with their dad. I can spend some serious time cleaning. If I can shake off the helpless-making depression that makes me just want to curl up in a corner and cry till I can’t breathe.
I’m trying to screw up my courage to quit teaching the children’s choir — it would let some other people down, big-time, but I just don’t know how I can keep on with everything. I’ve got to quit something. And I am going to see if there is someone who can help get the kids to and from basketball practise at least one night a week. Maybe even skip a few of their games … I hate to do that, but if I skip the games on days when they are with their dad, I can spend all day getting the house together.
Sigh. I am not a happy camper today.
1 Comment
It’s never easy. With kids needing 24-7 attention and everyone else demanding their little chunk of your energy. I’ve got a suggestion. Next time your mom drops by and acts displeased, hand her a broom or a basket of dirty clothes and ask her to pitch in. I’m betting she didn’t call ahead or wait to be invited, so she’s a bit out of line.
When I was up to my ears and drowning in all that mommy stuff, there were times when I was tempted to run screaming into the traffic. That’s when I took a couple dollars, got up at 5:a.m. on a Saturday, hit the open road. I drove for an hour or two, playing with the idea of just going until I got to the end of the road. Then I’d stop, order a breakfast and let someone wait on me for a change. I’d eat my meal in peace, without stopping to cut anyone’s food or wipe up spilled milk or break up an argument. I’d think about how beautiful my children were when they were asleep. I’d think about what I’d do with my time if they weren’t in the picture. Then I’d get back in the car and go home. Half the time when I returned they were all still asleep, none the wiser about my little “vacation.”