But goodness GRACIOUS am I tired. ALWAYS. I often feel paralyzed by unwarranted exhaustion and a complete lack of ambition that makes even the simplest household chores incredibly daunting and overwhelming. I’m lucky if I can keep up with the everyday dishes and laundry, and it’s a BIG DAY when I manage to summon enough energy to vacuum. I often wonder how normal this is for someone in my shoes, and how much these feeling have to do with just being freaking stir crazy and bored. Bored but busy, of course. Like that even makes sense. Read over the following list of depression symptoms (courtesy WebMD), and tell me this stuff isn’t inherent in being a stay-at-home mom:
- Fatigue or loss of energy
- Feelings of worthlessness or guilt
- Impaired concentration, indecisiveness
- Insomnia or hypersomnia (excessive sleeping)
- Markedly diminished interest or pleasure in almost all activities
- Restlessness or feeling slowed down
- Significant weight loss or gain (a change of more than 5% of body weight in a month).
Today was big. I’ve done a couple loads of laundry AND I just got up the motivation to clean our bedroom, which was strewn with dirty laundry, toys, and God knows what else, for at least the last…well, few weeks at least. Still hadn’t unpacked from our weekend away—a week ago—and still haven’t put away the clean laundry from several weeks ago. It doesn’t help that Dooley doesn’t mind living in utter filth in the least bit. Holy cow you should have SEEN his “bachelor pad(s)”. UTTER FILTH doesn’t even start to cover it, but I digress. One time, the first year we were married, I left his cup of milk out, as an experiment, to see if he would EVER take care it himself. Needless to say, it got real gross. The only thing that currently bothers him is that I don’t do his laundry. I guess he's probably annoyed that I don't cook either. *Shrug*
Here's our room, before and after. Apparently we swapped dogs too...
|Cue scary music.|
|TAH-DAH!!! Cue angels singing and sparkly sounds.|
That was an unexpected tangent. I would like to point out, on a related note, what an incredibly amazing and loving husband and father he is. He is so stinking cute (he loves that phrase) with the kids, and just last week got me flowers for no reason. (So what if I had just teased him about how he was sooooo much more romantic when we were dating, possibly prompting the getting of the flowers...!) We drive each other crazy but can’t imagine life apart. If my main complaint is his messiness, then I’m pretty lucky. He works twelve hour days and I don’t even have dinner ready for him when he gets home cuz I can’t cook. So I suck too. Again with the guilt, self? Ugh.
This is Me on a Bad Day, sometime last week, on one of the days I was watching the neighbor's kids:
Bah. Up before dawn. Tuesday feverish and crying. Typing on this silly little tablet with my two forefingers is so slow. Dirt is still sleeping. By the time he gets up, Tuesday might be ready for a nap. Daycare boy is being good and keeping quiet but, still, I really don't like other peoples' kids. Already dreading the arrival of the girl after school. God, she never stops talking.
I feel bad for being such a royal B, but patience and affection for other peoples' kids just don't come naturally to me. Unless they’re the kids of friends or family. Somehow that’s completely different.
Other peoples’ babies and littler kids are not so bad. They don't talk. Or do stuff. They sleep a lot. I can relate to those attributes. Or at least those are activities I approve of and personally enjoy.
Of course I’ve spent way more time with babies than with actual people-style children, so maybe that will change. I only develop feelings of personal dislike for the ones that run around and get into everything and TALK to me.
It's like, come on kid, can't you pick up on my cues of disinterest and borderline disdain? Is this completely one-sided conversation really that stimulating for you? Must I remain a part of it??
The main advantage of older kids is self-sufficiency, but that doesn't keep them from bugging me. And again, the guilt for being a raging, lazy B.
Time for coffee cup #85. It's 10am but feels like 10pm. Exhausted, emotional, stir crazy, and sooooooo not in the mood for annoying kid stuff. Fingers crossed that they are nice to me. Or just leave me alone for two forking seconds. They need soooo much attention. I really can't feign excitement today.
I can't even bear to open my mouth. It's like stuck shut. All I can manage is "MmmmHmmm", over and over and over and over and over and over again.
Okay so THAT day was major PMS. I think I drank wine and ate cookie dough for dinner that night, and probably cried when I burned the cookies. Maybe.
Luckily the last few days have been good. Here’s a wonderful, completely redeeming moment from earlier today:
Just put Tuesday down for nap. She
said she'd rather go to bed than eat the rest of her watermelon, and seemed
delighted with her choice. Okay then.
Now it's Dirt's turn. I tell him it's naptime as soon as his movie is over. He
says happily, "Okay, Mom."
When his movie ends, he gets nose to nose with me and says, with the sweetest
grin while stroking my arm and looking into my eyes, "I'm not gonna go to
bed. I wanna hang out with you, because I like you. May I do that? Is that
okay? My hang out with you?" Then he closes his eyes and rubs his face on
my arm, doing this weird puppy whimper he does when he's being sweet. "I
love you so much, Mama."
What am I supposed to do with this manipulative adorable jerk?
And yesterday I took the kids to the beach. Yes, I live in Colorado and it’s now September, but there is this awesome swimming beach at a reservoir about ½ hour away, and it was friggen 90 degrees yesterday! We were the only ones there for a good hour or two. It was heaven. Seriously PERFECT. To steal a phrase, Eau. Mah. Gah. No wind, not too hot, and above all it was PEACEFUL. And QUIET. I seriously think I go nuts just from too much noise. So I got a little sunbathing in while the kids played happily and QUIETLY in the sand. A-MAH-zing. Then I met another mom who was there with her two kids, almost the exact same ages as mine, so we had friends for a minute, and sometimes that’s nice too. We even exchanged phone numbers, like I did with another mom I met at the very same beach awhile back--the one that invited me to lady Bunco night--but the whole mommy-friend culture still weirds me out. Playdates? Bunco parties? All fine and good, and I’ve tried, but it’s so suburban-housewifey, and the idea of becoming new besties on the basis of us both having kids around the same age is bogus.
I think I’m becoming a hermit, or people-phobic, since being stuck at home so often. JUST GET OUT, you say, but we live 30 minutes from everything and most of the time it’s just not worth the effort to get everyone ready and in the car. Or maybe it is WORTH the effort, but I lack the energy to MAKE the effort. Hmmm. Plus now I have extra kids three days a week and I sure as shit am not going anywhere with FOUR children. I know it’s been done with even more kids, but the very idea frightens me.
I seldom have a reason to actually get dressed and do my hair and makeup, and I get super excited when there’s a good reason (you know, besides the stupid grocery store) to do so. The other day Dooley and I went on a date for his birthday. It is sooooo nice getting away from everything together, to be reminded that we are still friends, still in love, and still have friggen personalities apart from work/home/kids. We are real people!!!!
But back to the hair/makeup, cuz now it's time to be frivolous and balance out the realness of this post… my hairstyle for the last year or so has involved bangs, but I have to strait iron them cuz I have a really wacky cowlick. Of course when I’m staying home I’m not gonna mess with that, so I pin the bangs back and usually tuck the rest of my hair behind my ears (my hair is short so I can’t do the mom-bun). Anyway, when I went to actually style my hair for the date, I discovered my bangs had totally grown out and I had to do some major trimming before they looked decent. THAT’S how long it had been since I tried to look nice.