I’m living in Jen’s last post. Living IT. Living IN it. It is me. My life comes down to those first five sentences. And the fact that I can’t do everything. Actually, I can hardly do anything anymore.
Because I try to do everything, I can hardly do anything.
I fuck up all the time. No, really. All.the.time. I really do. Really. I pack the whole family in the car, husband included (and he’s often hard to sell on “family outings”) and head to the pool (not a quick and easy place to pack for, mind you). I hype up the kids and the toddler is chanting pool, pool, swim, swim, bubble-bubble-toot-toot all the way there. And then? It’s closed. Not open for another hour. Or two. Or three. We are all devastated. And most of all me. But since I am determined we will go and I will.not.let.my.kids.down, we occupy ourselves. We do not go home. We do mundane errands and stuff. I field 50,000 questions of when we will actually go swimming and then finally, we do end up there, just as they unlock the doors. And it is lunch time. And it is nap time. The baby is excited for the water but falling over from exhaustion because, bless him, he loves his nap (and so do I). But we persevere. We swim. We have fun. I survive.
And you would think I’d write the OPERATING HOURS down because I do it ALL OVER AGAIN THE FOLLOWING WEEKEND. Different day, mind you (Sunday not Saturday) but I repeat the same scenario. And it is painFULL. And I am traGIC. And I feel like the biggest LOSER MOTHER EVER. But again, we survive. The kids have fun. Their smiling faces and kicking, splashing limbs make it all worthwhile. But my ego is bruised. Again. My ego. This stupid thing. This stupid ego. It HAS.NO.RIGHT to make me feel so shitty. I should LET IT GO but I can’t. I’M A MOTHER. And that is too MUCH PRESSURE FOR ME. Motherhood. Too.Much.Pressure. And…
There are too many roles.
Jen and I talked about that a LOT before we started this blog.
Mother, sister, daughter, wife, partner, friend, lover…too many roles.
There’s this thing that happens once the kid comes out. You dream of a YOU that isn’t. A you that you’ve never been anything near being. Timely, courteous, gracious, ever-loving, not-cursing, totally engaged, not forgetful, [insert descriptors of any kind, shape and color]. You become the one that has to plan the birthday parties, do the grocery shopping, clean the toilets, check Johnny’s homework, make the Halloween costumes, schedule the playdates (where the kids play and the moms “date”), organize the family holiday gatherings, and so on, and so on, and so on…it’s exhausting. I want a mom. I mean, I have one, but she’s her own her now. And I’m my own me. Atleast, I’m supposed to be.
So then, I guess I need a wife, as all the moms out there say. It’s true. I do. But, like Jen, I’d be happy with more sanity. A shred. A piece of myself that is real that I don’t have to feel guilty about. A clear thought. Less frazzlement.
I don’t want to fuck up all the time. But I do. All the time now. So much that I am starting to worry about myself. I’m starting to get the feeling that putting soccer practice times and birthday parties on the calendar isn’t enough. I’m starting to think that I need to plan my life in 15 minute segments because otherwise I can’t complete any tasks. I’m starting to think that of all those roles, the only one I was every any good at was lover – but that’s how this family gig started and how I was dropped into this frazzlement phase.
I like to think that as long as I have love in my heart I’ll be okay. But I’m starting to wonder if that’s enough. In fact, I’m past wondering. I’m pretty damn sure that it’s just not enough.
There was a little blurb of an old saying on TV last night. I can’t stop thinking about it: the measure of a man is not how much he loved others, but how much he was loved by others.
And I’m getting all weepy. From stress and sickness and a really horrible fight I had with my husband that is hanging over my head…
There are a lot of “measures of a (wo)man” but this hits me where it hurts right now. A time when all I can think about are my failures. There are so many. In trying to do so much all the time I lose everyone I love along the way. I can’t focus on one thing long enough to see it through.
Not even this post. Even this post is scattered. My brain thinks so fast that I don’t have time to make sense of it all. Much of this is me and how I have always been. But so so so so so so much of it is the frazzlement. Yup, Jen. I’m fried too. Crisp.
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i could have written this:) I guess we all have these moments xxxxx
Crisp over here too. Maybe if I could sleep for a week straight, I’d have the energy to figure out a system to not be so frazzled and fried all the time. Yeah, good luck with that, me.
I know saying you’re doing a great job probably won’t help. You’ve got 3 kids. I have a hard enough time with just one who is going through the beginnings of terrible 2′s at 18 months. I’ve got a husband who really doesn’t understand and gets frazzled when watching our daughter by himself. I’m trying to go to gradschool (one class at a time), but wonder why am I doing this.
I feel like a complete failure at work. I try hard, but someone who I thought was my friend has gotten snippy and cold. I’ve got no clue what is going on. I constantly feel like I do not do things right. Getting through the day is a plus in my book. Though, don’t come over my house unannounced. It’s a disaster.
I wish I felt like I cold get one thing accomplished correctly. I feel like no matter how hard I try it backfires. For me lately it seems like I don’t know why I bother trying.
So I’d like to join the crispy, fried club too. I look at you taking your whole family to the pool, despite the error of when it opens at a huge accomplishment. It sounds like your kids had fun, and that’s what is important. Maybe your DH could watch the kids for an afternoon and you could go for a massage or get your nails done. Just do something for you.
It might make you feel better. I’m sorry to rant. Like you tweeted, you can’t put it on twitter or FB. You never know who will read it.
Hi Sarah,
It sounds like ‘mean Sarah’ is out and about. I have ‘oh, poor Rachel’ and ‘mean Rachel’ and they’re no fun to live with. I know I’m a bid off to name these phases but it helps. Keeps me from completely succumbing. See, when I’m in those places in my mind where I’m either beating myself up (mean Rachel) or lost in some despair (oh poor Rachel) I’ve found that talking to my sister (we have that in common) and getting perspective, no matter how hard, is really important. It is like Annie Lamotte’s quote ” My mind is like a bad neighborhood. I won’t go there alone.”
I believe the learning curve for this mindset you’re in is incredibly steep. Crazy steep. We’re all completely flawed. We just have to continually evaluate the day, moment, year, second and find our strengths to build them and weaknesses to support. You are doing this. Even if it seems like you’re frozen. Even if it is only armchair philosophizing, it is something. You’re experiencing growing pains I think. I still am. Look at your love and your strength and call Jen:)
Rachel
fried, crisp… dude, i’m fuckin burnt and crumbling. i hear ya sistafriend. i hear ya loud and clear and you’re not alone.
me too. just as crispy. barely getting through the sleep deprivation that is the fallout of being a mom and a shift worker. the feeling of alone. so alone that sometimes i feel like i would feel less alone without five other people here. it sucks. but sometimes it doesn’t and for now i’m hanging onto that.
loved Rachel’s comment. (mean Shawna) and (oh poor Shawna) live in my house far too often! Virtual hugs, wishing you betterness soon!!!
Ok, I KNOW you DO KNOW that we are ALL frazzled…at the very least, on most days.