" While you were judging me you should have thought 'Is it possible that she has no one else to watch after her children, leaving her as the only one to hold her child except for her husband on occasion by default?' before you said 'Oh...Mama's girl, are we?' with that look on your face. While you're at it, please raise two small children on your own with no help and get back to me before you judge my parenting techniques."
Almost said this to a near to her grave, very well intentioned elderly woman at the store recently.
It's been that pent up in me.
I've been getting that same look for months.Now this old lady didn't deserve it, and thank God I didn't actually say it, but every frikkin time I hear this, accompanied with the held tilt, eyebrow raise, and lip pierce, I have to use up every ounce of energy I posses to remain graceful.
This raising kids on our own is wearing on me y'all. It's getting under my skin.
Every time I hear a friend talk about how she can't wait for her mom/inlaw to come over and cook/clean/alleviate insanity I want to just scream.
Let me vent for just a second.
My mom has never [been able to] come over to clean my house while I take the kids to the park. [though I did have friends help me keep the house clean the week before/after Norah was born, which I am grateful for] She has never [been able to] taken my kids to the park/store/movies so I can sleep.
Eamon and I have been on three dates since Lily was born, all of them over a year ago. Three. Total. I'm not even talking about "grown up dates" or "dress up dates" or whatever it is that most couples whine about missing. I'm talking me and Eamon out of the house together, at the same time, sans children. The last date we went on was in October of last year, and that's because we were in Rockport.
Norah does not take a bottle. Both times I've left her to go work past her bedtime, she's cried non stop for four hours straight.
Eamon has made trips to Rockport by himself, so he technically has had nights away from our girls, not me. Every single night of her life, Lily has been no more than a room away.
So what do I do?
Move back to Rockport is the immediate answer. We've tried. every 3-6 months for the past two years. It's just not in the cards for us. Our family cannot survive in that place.
Make good friends and have them help you out. Well, I'm trying. BUT, when your baby doesn't drink from a bottle, you only have one car which the husband takes to work because he has a never ending bleeding toe, and a house that is apparently so disgusting because I'm so worn out of constantly picking shit up that no one wants to come here and I always have to meet them somewhere, ya. It's not going that great. I guess. I don't know.
When in Austin one of my friends was talking about how worn out she was. About how glad she was to just get a break and recoup to be a better mommy. I bet I sounded like a Grade A Snob when I said "I just can't go there" when she asked if I knew what she meant. I just can't get in that mindset of "HOW FREAKING AWFUL IS THIS RIGHT NOW?! I'm so ready for XYZ so this will be over." There is no grandma coming to pick the kids up. There is no next door neighbor watching the girls for a night. And there most definitely is no end to the "Ahh, Norah/Lily's here" in a sweet voice and then the look of "poor you" on a friend's face. And, you know, I guess there is no time for me to recoup and become a better mommy.
I'm just sick of it. I don't even want it to change at this point. I just want to be done being insecure about it, being defensive about it, BEING SICK OF IT. I'm so freakin grateful for the resevour of patience and contentment that the Lord has given me for over two years, but hot damn. What the heck are you supposed to do when they run dry? I mean come on. My whole family is asleep and I can't settle down because I just need to get this off my chest And I'm dreading the feeling that people will get all sappy and pitiful on me "Oh my god, you're life is so hard, you're a better mom than me, I don't know how you do it, I'd jump off your surprisingly low balcony." I don't need that.
I need..shoot, just to vent. To get an "Amen!" For someone to say "DAMN you look good wearing that small child in that Boba even though you haven't had a full night's rest in God knows how long, haven't ate good food in six months" [not true, but who's life isn't better with dairy and eggs?! WHO'S?!] and I'll give you one more, I need other moms to be more grateful for the help they have! God bless your mom's for wanting to deal with miniature you's again! They already done it once, they don't have to again!
I guess on Day 9, I'm grateful for my Mama's Girls. I mean, there are far worse things they could be, sister wive's for one. I'm grateful for the strength the Lord is pouring through my reluctant body allowing me to just go. To just do it. To pop these kids out, nurse em, love em, literally always be there for em, and I guess on occasion, give them a bath [add that to list of why people don't want to hang out with you AND your children, Mae. Sheesh.] And for the inspiration that said attached Mama's girls give me to write hilariously depressing blog posts about what a frustrating joke my life
We now returned to our regularly scheduled broadcast of puppies and pig tails. Thank you for your patience while we deal with routine maintenance.
Happy...Wednesday, yes, the clock says it's now Wednesday, fellow sleep deprived friends. Happy Wednesday.