The Exhaustion Has Set In

Laundry. Dishes. Paying bills. Cleaning. Litter boxes. Organizing the lives of four people. Changing the bed sheets. Cooking dinner. Making school lunches. Working full time. Food shopping. Yard work.

My husband has cleaned the full bathroom (we also have a half bath) of this house once. I have been on my hands and knees scrubbing the urine off the floor, the crap stains out of the bowl. The mildew from the tub tiles doesn't magically disappear. The kitchen floor has been scrubbed by me, on my hands and knees, with a hand brush several times. I know that mopping just doesn't cut it every time. Dinner is cooked by me the majority of the nights even though I now work Wednesday, Thursday and Friday nights, not getting home until almost ten. And sometimes when I get home those nights after standing for NINE straight hours and making small talk and basically busting my ass, I have to make two school lunches. I need to make sure there are clean clothes for the kids to wear the next day. Come Saturday night I am pretty much useless. I can barely drive the 30+ miles home after working all day.

I don't want to complain you see. I just really NEED to. I understand that in order to live in this house, pay my copious bills (that I have brought upon myself), have two cars (which is an absolute necessity) I have to work. I make good money. Now that I am back full time my take home may rival that of my husbands. But I am tired. I am tired of living in a dirty house. I am so tired of cleaning it on Tuesday and coming home to a pig stye on Wednesday. I understand that my husband (who works 6am -2pm the three week days that I work) is tired. I get it. But I am tired of coming home to see everything I have done obliterated in mere moments. I am tired of the laundry overflowing the hampires. Evidently, I am the only one who knows how to carry it to the basement. I'm not even assuming that anyone else would sort it. My husband tells me he doesn't fold it because he knows that I like it done a certain way. It's absolutely true. I want it done correctly, which in my mind is my way. But when there are three very full baskets of clean laundry, maybe you coudl fold a towel or two. I'm just saying....

I feel like the weight of running this household efficiently is resting squarely on my shoulders. I feel like I am becoming a hunch back. I feel like with all the chaos around me I don't see all the amazing things my husband does. It's very easy to complain about the mess. It's all around me. But what I don't always get to see is my hisband taking the kids to the movies. I don't see him taking them to school functions that I have to miss out on because I am at work. I don't see him giving them tubbies and reading them bedtime stories. I can't see the forest for the trees sometimes.

All I know is that I am tired. Tired of picking up. Tired of missing out on things. Tired of only having one day to spend with my family. Tired of feeling like the hired help. Tired of not getting to spend enough alone time with my husband. Tired of not having more girlfriend time. Tired of dwelling on all these things. Tired of trying to figure it all out and coming up short every single time. Tired of seeing life go quickly by, as I stand in a living room, surrounded by toys. I'm just really tired.

Dr. Jeckle and Mrs. Hyde

Husband and I have a running joke. If I am cleaning or I have decided to paint a room we say "I hope the new owners will like this color." or "The new owners better appreciate me cleaning the toilet so thoroughly." What new owners? you may be asking yourslef. No, we are not selling our house. I don't plan on moving. However, when my mortgage switches over in 2010, Wells Fargo might be forcing us to move. See, we are one of a zillion families in this country dealing with money problems. Husband and I have always said we could never fight over money because we simply don't have any to fight over. And we don't fight. I cry, Husband loses a little more hair, and sometimes the kids have to deal with my mounting fear and frustration. It's moments like these that I wish I could stay "Good Mommy" and not turn into "Angry Person."



This morning started off pretty well. The house was (of course) a mess but my plan of action was to do a little yardwork (and therefore getting the kids outside and into the fresh air) and clean tomorrow as the weather will be a bit inclement (and therefore I will be stuck indoors with two crazy children). After I showered and dressed I was making the last trip to the potty when I saw the toilet paper roll was bare. I went to replace the empty roll and found there was only one spare left in the basket. No problem, I foolishly thought, I'll get more downstairs. I make my way down, dodging cars and legos, to the back pantry. Hmmmm. Curious. No extra toilet paper. No matter. I was planning on making a trip to Lowes to price out some flooring anyway. I better just take a peek at my checking account, I thought. Oh the misery that followed...



After crying on the phone to Husband and changing into a worn pair of sweatpants I went into a bit of a frenzy. I scoured the internet looking for possible part time jobs that would allow my to work the other week nights that I am off so the kids wouldn't have to go into childcare that I can't afford anyway. I went out back with a 7 page job application I printed out. The kids were restless, even outside. I know they can sense when there is "a disturbance in the Force." They didn't want to play outside. They wanted to know what I was doing, could they have a snack, when were we going to Target, can their friends come over, can we go back inside and I lost it. I became the kind of person I hate being, A screaming mean banshee of a woman. Yes, we could go back inside, but then we were cleaning. I forced my children to pick up their toys and when they were moving too slow I screamed at them. When they started to play with the very toys they should have been putting away, I screamed at them. When Son started pulling Daughter's hair, I screamed louder and higher pitched. They covered their ears and tears welled in their eyes. It only made me madder. How dare they cry? I just wanted them to put away their 8 million toys that I worked hard to buy for them that they so callously threw all over the room. I wanted them to realize that I didn't want to clean their mess anymore than they did. I just wanted them to stop crying and go to their roooms. I wanted to go into the kitchen and cry. The kids went up to their rooms and I cried and cleaned. After a short time, Daughter came down with 32 cents and handed it to me. "Mommy, will this help us to not be so poor?"



This whole crapstorm started over toilet paper. I flew off the handle and scared my children with my screaming and hurtful words over something that I have done to myself. I don't know what to do about the money problem. I don't know whether or not I will have a home for my children next summer. I do know that taking my fear out on two little babes who have no concept of "rich" or "poor" is unfair. I don't like the person that I was this morning. I don't like seeing the hurt in their eyes and knowing I caused that. I don't want them to being the bearers of my burden. But mostly, I don't like the fear of not being able to provide for them. The fear of not being able to take care of them, to feed them, to dress them, provide warmth, shelter, safety for them, of failing at being a good mother.

Do Mom's Get Sick Days?

I am sick. I am sick with body aches. Chills. Nausea. Fatigue. Migraine. I would love for nothing more than a full 12 hour sleep at night. I would like this sleep to be uninterrupted and I would like to sleep alone. I want to have a glass of ginger ale on my night stand for my own personal consumption. I want to be able to look at trashy celebrity gossip websites in bed in between watching Season 2 of Dexter and doing the People magazine crossword puzzle. In a perfect Person world this would happen. But I do not live in Person world. I live in Mom world. Just because I am sick doesn't mean I get the rest I need to get better. Don't I get a sick day?

It started on a beautiful sunny Wednesday afternoon. I was lounging at the beach with good friends and good magazines. The kids were playing well together and wanted nothing to do with the grownups. I am not a beach person per se. I don't like sand in crevices sand does not belong in but ultimately creeps into it. I don't like sand in my food or salty wet children tracking sand clumps all over everything. I do enjoy the ocean breeze and the sun shining. I was actually having a good beach day. When we left the beach and headed to a friends house for dinner the back pain started. I contributed it to my lack of working out and my gaining of five additional pounds. I was picking up kids and moving beach stuff and other physically strenuous activities. I never thought it would be the onset of the flu. I mean, seriously, who gets sick in the summer?

Being woken up by the gagging noise of your 5 year old puking on your bedroom floor at 5:50 am is really not my preferred method. However, this was my Thursday morning wake up call. It all went quickly downhill from there. I'll spare you the details as I am a compassionate person. But I have been, for the last 24+ hours, been dealing with fevers and diarrhea and pukie bowls. One kid sick, the other not. One kid who needs cuddles and Tylenol and back rubbies, one kid who has boundless amounts of energy and a short fuse. I am really stuck between a rock and a hard place. I can't take care of one sick kid while entertaining the other. Did I mention that by now I want to curl up in the fetal position with my own pukie bowl and have someone feed me ibuprofen and rub my back?

I called out sick to work yesterday and for today. I was, foolishly, hoping that I would make it to work on Saturday. (When you work on commission and don't get paid sick days and have a camp payment due work is imperative.) I didn't sleep at all last night but my amazing husband worked from home today and after ingesting some meds at 4:30 this morning I slept relatively well until noon. I woke up, showered (but I haven't brushed my teeth since Wednesday...), ate some toast and nursed a cup of coffee, dressed the sick kid, cuddled with the healthier one, and texted my friends.

Now I am sitting in the living room alone watching Johnny Test. Sick kid is upstairs on her computer. Husband took my son out to my friends town beach. I just washed down some more ibuprofin with some Diet Coke. I am caught in a battle between chills and heat stroke, with chills currently taking the lead. Throwing up would be great right now because I can't stand the nausea. But I am alone on a comfy couch. I have read most of my magazines and am up to date with celebrity shennanigans. So maybe I do get a sick day, at least for a few hours.