Life isn’t easy. In fact, these days it’s terribly hard and terrifically stressful. I feel like I am tethered to my children. I’m only lucky enough to free myself so that they can go to school and daycare and I can go to a job that I…oh yeah, I fucking hate! So no, not so lucky after all.
But aren’t the weekends supposed to be fun? Supposed to procure some form of relaxation? Some respite from the humdrum work week? Because they don’t. It’s just more obligation. More duties. More shit that needs to get done. Instead it’s unpaid shit this time – house cleaning, laundry washing, dish doing, errand running, grocery shopping, birthday partying, soccer playing, car driving…over and over and on and on and up and down and…
I don’t feel free. Ever. To do anything that I want to do. When I want to do it. I always have to check in with someone. I have to arrange childcare for the kids. I have to ensure that my husband can watch them, that it won’t interfere with work. Oh, work. So much work. He has SO.MUCH.WORK. And so I am tethered. To the children. And he works. And if he doesn’t work I still don’t know if I should leave the kids with him because he needs peace from work as much as I do. And really? Three boys in this house is nothing near peaceful.
And then there’s the money stress. Jen brought this up and it’s incredibly important to mention. Because we all have it. The more money we have, the more we spend. The less we have, the more we need to spend. No matter what, you are stressed. And we have entered into a whole new world of financial stress because Dan is now officially self-employed. Hmm. It’s not really exciting. Like “oh, you work for yourself, how great!” There isn’t a flexible schedule. It’s not like vacation-when-I-wanna kind of life. It’s work-all-the time kind of life. It’s Dan does the working and I do everything else…for now…
But I need a break. I need to get away. It doesn’t have to be a big thing, either. I just want to be able to bolt out the door when I want to go running. To hop in my car if I get the yen for a Frappacino. I don’t want to have to check in. To pass the reigns. I don’t want to have to get the time approved by my husband and cut in on his working time. Jen is the closest family I have and she’s, um, just a little busy in her own life. I don’t have good friends in town. My mother would come over for a bit, but it’s not the type of relief that I need. I mean, I’m often more stressed out with her watching the kids than if I had to pay a babysitter. First of all, the house should be clean and neat, there should be food in the fridge, a spotless toilet seat, and, oh yeah, I have to be back early enough so that she can drive the two hours home. It’s all too much. Really. (And sorry, Mom, of course I know you are reading this. I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to call up and offer to come watch the kids so I could “get a day away.” You don’t. You should come see us only when you want to see us, not out of any other obligation.)
So where was I? Right. Tethered. That’s where I am. What makes it most difficult is thinking about all the things that need to be done. The grocery shopping, for instance. Awesome. Now I have to plan that and do that with the three kids. Do you know what that’s like? Can you imagine shopping with three kids – three boys – in a grocery store full of the most rude patrons I’ve ever encountered in my life! They CUT YOU OFF! Seriously. People cut me off with their stupid carts in the grocery store. I’m infuriated every time I shop there and when I leave I say to myself: no way am I coming back here – I’ll drive the extra 15 minutes to the other store. But you know what happens the next time I have to go? It’s bad timing, I’m low on energy, and an extra 30 minutes of driving seems impossible because that would mean I wouldn’t get back until [blank] time which would mean that dinner would be late, or Jamis would miss practice, or bedtime would be interrupted, or naptime would be postponed, or so and so might fall asleep in the car which means he might wake up when we get home which means he might MISS his nap and HOLY TERRORS NO! HE CAN’T MISS HIS NAP!
I’m a little ramped up. I think I need a drink. A nap. Another drink. And, oh yeah, a fucking break! Because every thing that needs to be done around here is screaming SARAH at the top of its lungs! Those dirty clothes: SARAH. Those clean dishes: SARAH. That dog-peed floor: SARAH. That ring around the tub: SARAH. That empty refrigerator: SARAH. That pile of papers: SARAH. That other pile of papers: SARAH. The bills: SARAH. The subscriptions: SARAH. The dust, the grime, the dirt: SARAH SARAH SARAH. The library books, the shoes that don’t fit, the halloween costumes: SARAH SARAH SARAH.
I’m so tired. And I can’t stop bitching. And I don’t know why I even bother to continue because really? Is it possibly going to change? No. No it’s not. And I sound like such a baby girl doing all this whining. But sometimes? Sometimes you just have to let it all out. So, let me tell you just one other thing – as long as I’m “letting it all out.” Feeling this way? Feeling so overwhelmed? Feeling so tethered? It feels really very lonely. And I feel lost. I feel that everything is screaming SARAH except for Sarah, you know? I feel like the whole world needs something from me. And no, I’m not that vain, it’s just a dramatic interpretation people. But do you feel me? Do you hear me? Do I sound familiar in any way? Because I’m smart enough to know that I’m just NOT that alone. That, in fact, there are mothers and wives everywhere that feel this way from time to time. That my own mother felt this way once upon a time. And I’m not looking for answers or solutions. A day at the Spa isn’t going to help. Isn’t going to wash away the feeling that my whole house and the people in it are solely my responsibility. It’s bigger than the Spa and a mindless mani-pedi. It’s bigger than a peaceful trip to the bookstore where I browse the shelves and sip a latte. It’s bigger than me. And this is why I feel so trapped, I think. Because of all the people to feel so lost, it shouldn’t be me right now. I was “lost” many, many years ago when I was strung out on drugs and just living to get high. But that person is not me any more. In fact, when my memory takes me back I can’t even believe that I ever WAS that person. But I was. And I found myself. Once. Many years ago. I think I need to remember what that felt like. I think I need to scream for Sarah and see what happens. Will she fit me in to the chore list this weekend, in between the birthday party and the baby shower?
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Do nothing for a day. Seriously. Do the bare minimum needed, otherwise, live in filth for a day, watch movies, play on the computer, something.
Sure, you still need to clean it up later. But it’s soooooo nice.
Thordora, I totally subscribe to this train of thought. Often, in fact. The problem seems to be that there remain three children calling, pleading, whining, needing, begging for attention in some way. I could deal with the messes, I could even deal with cleaning the messes, if I didn’t have to deal with the whinermagoos too.
I am totally open to any childcare you might be willing to offer. Heh Heh Heh….
*sigh* you know where to find me. i know you feel alone… in many ways, you are alone.
but i’m here. and i’ll wait for you.
Nic, Thank you for recognizing that yes, in many ways I am alone. It’s important to say that. It’s important to somehow learn to understand and embrace that. I think if I can do that more often I will feel LESS alone. Weird, right? But so, so true.
The third sentence made me laugh. The rest? Could have made me cry, so I only skimmed. Maybe I’ll read this post when I no longer feel exactly the same way as you describe.
Twins are a whole other story, mama. I can imagine and I can’t, you know? With a one and a two year old in my house things are madness already. But when they were infants I had a chance to cherish just one at a time. Take help where and when you can. I know you need it. Because twins or no twins, we all do.
all i can give you is love, support, and a very very loud, “I HEAR YOU. I FEEL YOUR PAIN. I AM RIGHT THERE IN THAT WORLD, TOO, SISTER.”
honestly (sorry to your mom if she reads this and is offended by bad language. sorry Mrs. Mom of Momalom), i can’t even take a shit without company. how am i going to “get away” for a little bit? the nearest city is a 20 minute drive away. it’s not like i can just jump in the truck and go swimming or to dairy queen to shovel my face full of ice cream cake whenever i want to but boy, ice cream cake sounds soooo good right now and i would kill people for an ice cream cake right now and who cares that it’s like 8 million calories.. where was i?
ah yes. not just tethered to the children, darling. screwed, blued, and tattooed. ball and chained. yoked, one might say. it’s a good thing they’re cute, isn’t it? cute is the only thing that keeps my kids alive some days. :)
oh and yes, where exactly is the money for all of this self-pampering going to come from? our money tree died when the economy tanked. i will gladly take a few clippings off of your money tree.
I love you Stone Fox, aka becoming-a-soul-sister-blogger. The first paragraph is EXACTLY WHAT I NEEDED TO HEAR. Intellectually I know that I am not alone, but you just need someone to scream it from the rooftops sometimes to get your attention. So thank you, my dear.
Couple of things:
Don’t worry about Momalom’s Mom. She know I CURSE QUITE A BIT. And…she’s been know to throw a few ugly words around herself. Also, she lived with my father for 30 years. You’ve probably never heard so many F-bombs in all your life.
Ice cream cake. How did you know?
And kids being cute…this is what Momalom’s Mom says all the time. “There’s a reason their cute, you know?” And ’tis true. So, so true.
I really do think that I’m going to come down there. I’m bringing you a coffee (careful, that cream is of the Irish variety) and I’m going to clean your house and then we’re headed somewhere fun. (We’ll leave your kids with mine- the rest of the neighborhood is usually in the yard anyway, what’s a few more?)
(And holy crap I feel like that all the time.)
The coffee (and the cream) are welcome here IN MAH BELLY anytime.
But I say we just forget about the fucking house, leave the children to the husband (or the wolves, 6 to one, half-dozen to…blah blah blah) and go to…HMM. Where should we go?
Start brainstorming. And remember, I’m pretty broke these days. (Just another reason to feel like crap all the time…grrrrreat!)
Oh Sarah, I am so sorry. I have heard this from so many women in my own life lately. Everyone I know is run down and tired and sick or trying to get over being sick. I have to believe that it has to get better. The children will become more independent. Work will slow down. The chores will never go away, but will become more manageable — once the children are more independent. I’d love to hear what women in their 50s and 60s (those who’ve gone through this difficult period and survived) have to say about this work-around-the-clock phase.
Great post. I’ll be thinking of you.
Thanks for the sympathy, empathy… love. I know it will all get easier. At times, anyway. It goes in phases, doesn’t it? Life goes in phases, sickness/health go in phases, happiness, sex, moods, energy…all of it. They all go in phases. For me it takes remembering that I am not alone when things are low and I’m feeling droopy. I seek support and when I do, there are people like you out there reminding me that “this too shall pass.” And, even if it comes back again another day (which it surely will), it is okay.
Thank you.
There are no immediate and FDA approved prescriptions for this sort of plague, Sarah. There just isn’t. The only thing for it is time. Time for you to allow yourself acceptance for the shape and the texture of the moment of your life that you are living in. Time for you to allow not only acceptance of it but also a sense of fondness(snort) and grace for it. And it will come. It will. Because you are aware of the reality of your life. You are aware that IT cannot change. Because you are wise enough, I know, to realize that only you change. And you are so very loving enough that I know you will.
In time.
While the Acceptance clock ticks away and you feel yourself slowly, gradually, opening up for change what should you do? I have no fucking idea. How’s that for helpful-lovely. Sorry.
I guess I just want you to know that it’s ok. It’s ok because you know we’ve all been there. Or are there. Or avoiding being there. It’s ok because you know you are NOT alone. It’s ok because you know this is all bigger than you but at the same time that you are capable of finding your way through it so that it is exactly the same size as you.
And I have to agree, time will also be your friend as your children grow. We all know we have kids to be our slaves, right? Please say yes….! I kid, I kid(mostly)!!! But it is true that as they grow up and become more independent, they are also more able to help you, and they should do that, not just for you but for their own growth as well.
As far as your husband and his work, preaching to the choir on that one. I can’t and shouldn’t and won’t speak to that. How you find the balance with him and work is between the two of you. I try very hard to not put myself in the middle of a marriage. But I suspect that as you find your way to your own path, this will resolve as well. Not magically, I know, but it will.
And can I tell you what I actually thought when I finished reading this post? And I SWEAR(no pun intended, as you will see) I said it in complete devotion to your heart and empathy for your situation as your virtual sister. I said FUCK IT ALL TO HELL!
I did.
Take it as a very emphatic hug….as it was intended.
(I also apologize to Mrs. Momalom for my “french”)
Heather. Whoa. Wow. Thank you.
I love that you mention the FDA; I love that you can simultaneously joke about this and treat it with the utmost seriousness. Because that’s what life, in general takes, I think. But in this circumstance, when I’m feeling utterly overwhelmed by everything that IS MY LIFE, it is a good time to stop and say everything that you said, with a great sense of perspective. Because it DOES take acceptance. And it WILL get easier (kids become slaves) but it IS hard sometimes and that is all OKAY. But it is also so very very okay to say FUCK IT ALL TO HELL! Sometimes THAT is needed too.
And I do take it as a very emphatic hug, my virtual sister. I do. Thank you.
Nothing is so magical as working through all of these blips of motherhood in this very, very happy blog space.
I don’t have time to say all I want to (suffice it to say I have exactly one hour kids-free in which to work–my ONLY KID FREE HOUR ALL WEEK–and various things around the house are yelling “meagan, meagan, meagan!”) but I do want to say that I find the whole idea that a spa day or an afternoon shopping or a movie or whatever is supposed to fix what ails moms. Don’t get me wrong: I love movies, I love massages, and I tolerate shopping reasonably well, but. But. Outings, no matter how relaxing, are not a FIX for the kind of thing you’re going through. Especially not when it means things just pile up while you’re gone and you’ve got twice the amount of work to attend to when you get home.
If there’s one bit of good news I’d like to share it’s that, omg, are you ever in the thick of things right now. A one-year-old AND a two-year-old? And a seven year old, which is just old enough to start feeling like they know everything without being old enough to take over any meaningful housework or responsibility. My oldest two are now 10 and almost 12 and I cant’ tell you what a difference it’s made, just to be able to share the burden around a little. Of course, I’m still in charge of delegating. But just knowing that if I really, really don’t want to or can’t find the energy to, I can order or beg or bribe or even PAY my boys to do the laundry or dishes is just. so. NICE. You’ll be there too, sooner than you think.
Thank you for putting it in perspective, Meagan. I NEED that. I often CRAVE that. Because I damn well know this isn’t forever, but it feels like it is when you are in the thick of it.
Sometimes I am so sad when I am this overwhelmed and taking time to talk about it (bitch about it?) because I DO KNOW that the boys will grow up, and the dynamic will shift, and the things that are driving me crazy right now won’t be the same things that drive me crazy in 10 years. I can’t say that they will be better or worse, but at least I won’t be wiping butts, or cleaning up juice spills. I will one day rely on the boys to do that for themselves (even if I have to give the floor a second washing – but not the butts, thankyouverymuch). I get sad because I don’t want to rush things. I want to stop, and be still, and smell their innocence, and breathe their youth because I know it will be gone in a flash. Before I know it I’ll be sitting here saying “remember when…” It’s a fine balance between griping about motherhood when you need the release and reveling in it because you realize how lucky you are. In the end I have to believe that as long as I am honest about it – in good times AND bad, that I’m doing okay. If I focus on one or the other too much, I’m not honest. And if I subscribe to any one of these posts any more than the next, I’m also limiting myself. I am, as you are, an embodiment of everything we write (aka feel): the good AND the not so very good.
Oops, didn’t preview before I hit “post”. I meant to say “I do want to say that I find the whole idea that a spa day or an afternoon shopping or a movie or whatever is supposed to fix what ails moms JUST RIDICULOUS.”
All right so how one of us moves closer to the other one so we can become ‘real friends’ who bitch and complain and call out our own names amidst the chaos of motherhood and then we can watch each other’s kids too?
Liz, here’s the catch: I tried Florida, mamacita, and wasn’t all too pleased. Us Northern folk are pretty nice, though…so you might want to give it a go someday…you know, to mix things up.
And yes! The whole idea really IS to help each other out. The support to hear each others’ complaints AND watch each others’ kids. In all honesty, that’s what we NEED. Why the hell is it so much harder to see that OR say that IN ReAL LiFe??!!
Oh, man, this is rough. And endemic to the job. Studies show parents are much, much less happy than people without kids. It’s hard becuase we’re supposed to claim it’s all sunshine and buttercups.
And you know why I just realized moms who work have it even harder? Because your weekend…that’s my week. Every day. But I can fantasize that working would give me a few seconds to myself. To pee when I want to. To close my eyes. To have adult conversations. But working moms? Working moms have no fantasies. The weekend cures them of ideas that staying home would be easier (I make no estimations of which is better or worse because there is no such thing. I”m just saying the fantasy “out” is a knowable, Sat and Sun kind of deal.) So working moms have no fantasy of escaping. Except the same fantasy all moms have (or all sane moms): running away from home.
Sorry if that’s not a real option for you. I’m packing my piggy bank and my chocolate cookies right now, cuz I’m totally outta here tonight. ;-0 Wouldn’t that be lovely?
I do so wish my piggy bank had something substantial in it. I think I could beg, borrow and steal to get some time away if I could just afford going somewhere other than the public library for a few hours. Jen is a fabulous baker and I’m sure she could provide us with treats for a week (if I gave her enough notice). Now all I need is a REtreat to take them, and HER, to. And you can come, Nap, and all of the kickass commenters on this here post. Because we DO need respite. There IS no fantasy. This IS our life. And it will change, sure. It will get better and it will get worse. But it will always be exhausting. So somebody pass me a coffee because I need to make it through the rest of this day, and then there’s tomorrow…
That enormous noise you just heard? That’s all of us mommies shaking our fists in the air and howling, “You said it, sister!!”
It’s just so damn hard. I got so mad yesterday because that minute I had to myself, when I flopped on the couch in exhaustion? The cat immediately leapt into my lap, needing a rub and affection. AARGH! What about ME? Do I have to meet everyone else’s needs all the time? AARGH!
I’m with you.
YES! Someone always needs something from you. Yes! (I’m screaming here in a pitchy, cracking “mom” voice) YES! YES! YES!
I feel like I say this to people all the time. I want people to hear me and to understand. Listen, people. You ALL WANT SOMETHING FROM ME. ALL THE FUCKING TIME. And I just don’t know how much more I have to give. I mean, on the one hand I will GIVE ETERNALLY (aka I’m a bottomless pit of giving) because I am a mother and a woman and a goddess, but on the OTHER HAND OMG WOULD YOU LEAVE ME ALONE I’M ALL TAPPED OUT! (see all the screaming here? am i making my point because i just want to MAKE MY POINT TO THESE PEOPLE OMG!)
breathe in. breathe out.
did they hear me? i don’t think they heard me? oh well. i’m sure i’ll do it all again tomorrow.
i feel like i could have written this myself. that’s how i feel ALL THE TIME. not so much the tethered part but the part where EVERYTHING is left up to me. we BOTh work full time and yet I DO EVERYTHING extra around the house. all the kids laundry. all the dishes. all the cleaning. it’s so overwhelming.
then they wonder why we’re all wino’s. geeze.
w(h)inos. heh heh. heh.
and yes. laundry? me. cutting nails? me. cleaning toilets? me.
okay. he does a lot. yes. “he.” “him.” but really? REALLY? it’s the fact that all of this stuff is always on my mind all the time and oh my god when am i going to get to the grocery store. and i just get so jealous that when the lawn needs to be mowed he just goes out and…mows it. like right then. and he doesn’t appear to be really worrying about anything else. things might be on his mind but they don’t appear to be so intrusive, or something.
idk. there’s a post brewing here about the differences between men and women. not a new subject by any stretch of the imagination…i know, i know. but it’s just so obvious how can i NOT write about it?
Oh my! This is me! How did you know? Are you in my house or, scarier yet, my head?
Seriously, you are not alone in feeling like this. And it is overwhelming. I don’t have any miraculous suggestions, though. It is what it is and the only constant in life is change, so just know that it is not going to be like this forever. Someday, it will be better and you will be stronger for surviving it.
Sorry to not have a magic wand…if I find it, though, I’ll share! Take care. :)
Don’t worry, I’m not in YOUR head. I think it’s a “collective head” that we mothers share. And thank goodness for that, because it allows us to show support for one another.
And DITTO on the wand!
I know exactly how you feel. I didn’t even have enough time to be sick and have a cold this weekend. “Tethered” is such a great word to describe our lives as Mothers. We love them so much but we are so tired!
It’s amazing when you can’t even do “sick” right, isn’t it? Colds just pass through me and I barely have time to verbalize that I feel like shit, have a headache, am crampy, achy or otherwise. You hit the nail on the head: it really all comes down to the fact that we love them, but we’re tired. Tired in so many, many ways.