I want so much to sit here and write. Breathe poetry and magic and spin words that lay dormant in my heart. But the days are so long. And I am so drained. And my body longs for sleep. My mind beckons peace.
So today a short quip.
I packed the family for a trip to the pool this afternoon. Come hell or high water I was determined to get the kids out of this house. The pool is always a fabulous destination and so I packed. We left. We drove. We arrived.
There was ten minutes of struggling two toddlers out of clothes and into suits while reminding the 7 year old every other minute what he should be doing. Once all four boys (husband included) were water-ready I looked down at the bag and looked back at my husband. I had forgotten my own suit. Five towels, four boy suits, a diaper, some goggles, but no suit for mom.
I took the car keys and booked it home and back again. I lost 20 minutes of pool play with the kids, which was no big deal at all, but I kicked myself over and over for not fully remembering every detail yet AGAIN!
How often are we thinking of our kids’ needs, and even our spouses’ needs, before our own? Always? Mostly? I don’t know. But I do know it is just the way my life is right now. I am involuntarily conscious of every little aspect of life in this house, the moods of my boys at any given time, the stress of my husband’s job, the finances, the amount of dirty laundry, the fact that tomorrow we will run out of cream and we are already out of apple juice and Max will scream for strawberries again and again until I finally get to the store. I am aware of it all. All of it. All the time. A mother’s brain. Involuntarily filled with words and whispers from the house of my life and the people in it.
Today I am happy for this (commonly frustrating) brain chatter, even though I forgot my suit–and thus myself–when packing for the pool. But the eternal question swirls around and around in my mind and in my heart: how to make room for me? I think I know the reality. I think I want too much without even knowing what I want. I love my life and the madness it is. The busy, noisy, screaming, yelling, chaotic mess of living in a house with all of these fighting, bickering, cackling, wrestling boys. I love it. And yet. I never had time to figure out the me I was before I had kids. But now that me is defined by her kids. So looking for time to figure it all out seems moot.
All in all, I’m tired of asking these questions. How much time should I take for myself? How much should I expect to be able to take? And I’m tired of all the expectations. That I should live in the moment. Breathe in the moment. Be happy in the moment. Take joy and have peace and let the moments unfold. This is good and right and ideal and all. But life is tough. Life is blood. Rushing, moving, torrents of blood.
Thank goodness it tastes so sweet.
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“I never had time to figure out the me I was before I had kids. But now that me is defined by her kids. So looking for time to figure it all out seems moot.”
This. So so this.
And also – yesterday we took a trip to Ikea, we’re on one side of Boston, the store on the other. Roughly an hour trip. We had a gift card, whole point of the trip. Just past Boston… oops! Forgot the gift card. Kicked myself the whole way back home, grab gift card, turn around, head back through tunnels and city. Finally. But the kids got extra long car naps, and it was all fine in the end. But still… that mother’s brain. It’s a real phenomenon! (had to sympathize… )
Thanks, Corinne. I know that we all do it. That it happens. That it is, sadly, something to be expected. But I feel like I let myself–and my husband–down every time my scattered mother brain kicks in and I do something stupid like this. It takes so much just to get out of the house, you know? And it takes so much coordinating in my brain just to FIGURE OUT how to get out of the house.
I am in the throes of chaos these days and trying to fight my way through it. Thank you for reading and for the sympathy. I know that I wouldn’t prefer to have a husband/father brain and that there are big, big advantages to this mommy-doesn’t-ever-stop-thinking thing, but some days? Just shoot me. Or rather, tranquilize my brain!
This reminds me of my 35th birthday, out on the boat with my parents, kids, and husband. I couldn’t figure out who I was forgetting when I kept counting five people on the boat but thought there really should be six. And then I realized I was forgetting myself.
I guess that happens.
I’m glad you went back and got your suit and jumped in with them.
I’m sorry for the feeling of overload, but am glad it tastes sweet … cheers to things slowing down (somehow) soon.
xo
It scares me to know that things won’t ever really slow down, rather they will speed up. There will be MORE to do as the boys get older and there are 6 games in a week instead of 2. There are three boys to hound for clean clothes and homework completion. I know what’s coming and I’m a little frightened by it, to be honest. But then again, like the person I have always been, I’m kind of excited to see just how crazy my world can be and how well I can keep up with it. Kind of the reason I keep envisioning that fourth child, I think. My inner self is always saying “Bring IT On” and THAT? Scares the heck out of me. :)
That’s what I loathe so much about the “be present” demands and expectations. I’m so supposed to be present, be here, be in the moment, be aware … and yet I must remember every single thing that must be done in the next 24 hours because I’m the one who knows what must happen, how it will happen, and what will happen if I forget anything.
This is why I need a wife.
Yes, I could use a wife and a total brain adjustment. Maybe an injection of some of those male thinking cells. You know, the ones that see only what’s in front of them and aren’t bothered with anything else until it’s absolutely necessary to be bothered (or concerned).
I’m with you, Sarah. Sometimes it’s amazing to me that everyone around here trusts me to remember everything – signing up my son for high school, refilling his ADD meds on time, getting both kids to their dental and orthodontic appointments, getting my hair dyed so I don’t look like a haridan, my (unpaid) work. And then the regular stuff – school, tutoring, athletic games. Honestly, my brain’s got a hole in it and I’ve been running on empty for a long time.
Last night I got to bed on time and my husband said, “Finally, you’re making time for me.” And I looked at him (exasperated) and said, “No, I’m making time for ME!” Will he understand that? No.
I love it. “No, I’m making time for ME!” Wonderful.
I’m very fortunate in that my husband understands that we both need time for ourselves away from the family life from time to time. But the running list of STUFF that needs to be accomplished is exclusive to his business. And though we’ll talk about the day’s plans three times somehow they will STILL get all f-ed up due to “miscommunication.”
Brain. Hole? Running on empty? I’m with you.
This is not a quip. It is a taste of reality. Of struggle mixed with sweetness. Of wealth and woe. Of good fortunes and great headaches. Of forgetting Self in a swirling sea of Other.
Wonderful words and whispers.
Thank you, Aidan. Words and whispers abound. Finding time to answer their demands is difficult these days, thus the scattered, swirling mess of words last night. Glad you have found something in it flavored with reality.
stupid internet just ate my awesome comment. so now you get 2nd rate tried-to-remember-it-but-forgot-most-of-it comment.
the hurricane went to a sleepover last night and while he was gone, i re-learned an important lesson. the answer to, “how can i miss you if you won’t go away?” is, “i really, really miss you when you go away.”
“I think I want too much without even knowing what I want. I love my life and the madness it is.”
sometimes a mom needs the crazy to go away so she can miss it. so she can walk back into it knowing it is her choice, not something forced on her. sometimes a mom needs to get away just to prove she can, just to remind herself she is not TIED to the crazy. to remind herself there is more to her than keeper of the zoo. so many of the little moments are mom-moments, how many are us-moments?
other times, the times where you ask yourself when and how much time can i give myself, are the times a mom may need to grab her sister or her girlfriend and take off for a weekend. leave the husbands and the children staring at a flurry of asses and elbows. leave the “Honey” and “Mo-o-o-o-o-m” labels behind and just be a woman, a sister, a girlfriend.
First of all Stone Foxy, I am sorry that the damn Internet ate your first awesome comment. But not to worry, because your second awesome comment (while I have nothing to compare it to) was totally awesome itself.
Secondly, I know you know exactly what I am talking about. I know you feel me. Everyone here does. And it is such a relief to be able to check in to the virtual world and be heard and understood and appreciated for these thoughts that just ramble around in my head. A head filled to the brim with appointment schedules, soccer games, grocery lists, puppy needs, etc etc etc etc etc….
Take off for the weekend? A fine idea. Jen and I are hoping hoping crossing all fingers to make that happen later this month. Just a few hours alone on a train would be a welcome reprieve from the day-to-day that can drag us under even while we are still fighting and clawing our way to the top.
And needing the crazy to go away so I can miss it? Absolutely. Abso-f’in-lutely!
So often I read your posts Sarah and I just nod and nod and nod until I feel like my neck is going to snap off from so much nodding. I am SO with you. My husband is constantly annoyed because I can’t find my wallet or my phone or my keys but I ALWAYS have the box of raisins to keep Luke busy in the stroller, the Benadryl in case of an allergic reaction, the change of socks in case Hannah stomps in a snow pile, the crayons in case we decide to stay out for lunch. No, I NEVER know where MY stuff is but the other details… they are 100% checked off, All The Time. All of the details make my head spin but I feel confident that I’m a GREAT mom and if I’m not great to myself, for now, I can handle that. And I can handle my annoyed husband as well… for now.
I’m sure life will not slow down but we’ll catch up to it at some point. It will just become the norm (is it already?) and we’ll fit ourselves back into the race.
I can’t tell you why I thought this, but when I finished writing last night and clicked “PUBLISH” I had this thought: “Becca will get it!” Now, of course that’s not saying that anyone else wouldn’t. I feel that much of what I write (in general) is universal–or at least I’m hoping that’s the case, that’s why I write it–however, I just had this picture in my mind of you, Becca, living your life with your two cute-as-a-button-kids and totally feeling (from time to time) the way I felt last night. I can’t explain why I thought this, but I did. And reading your comment assures me that I was not wrong for imagining as such.
And you are right. It IS the norm. And sometimes that scares the shit out of me. But mostly? I’m ever grateful for it.
“I think I want too much without even knowing what I want.” Word, girlfriend.
Although I DO know that I want to be free from the responsibility of meeting everyone’s needs, because they needmeandtheyneedmenowandIneedyoutoomommyandHoneywhere’sthatbookofstamps…
Makes me fucking nuts. And while I’m meeting their needs, I am also trying to anticipate future needs, so maybe in 15 minutes when I sit down, I won’t hear, “Mommy?!”
I love you. Thanks for keeping it real.
I just can’t sugarcoat, you know?
I love this life. This crazy, messy life. But I pause all too often to wonder how the fuck I got here. It’s the blog that gives me reason to pause, and a place to go when I pause. Thank you for reading. I am in some kind of a cave these days–probably due to winter doldrums and dim light–but I glean hope from your responses. Every single one of them.
Sarah,
I think that you are wonderful. I was going to tell you a lively account of when I forgot my underwear while packing for a small weekend trip. Not exactly the most pleasant memory, although it makes for some great laughs.
Instead, I want to tell you how happy you make me. Reading this post, early this morning, made for some introspective pondering. Thank you.
Thank YOU my dear. After I published this post I sent Jen an email that went something like this: “I posted something pretty lame but I’m exhausted and it’s all I could manage.” So, as you can see, I have good reason to be elated from the comments section my here “lame post.”
Knowing that I make someone else happy? Knowing that someone else thinks about my words after their eyes have left the screen? Totally awesome. Thank you.
“I want so much to sit here and write. Breathe poetry and magic and spin words that lay dormant in my heart.”
Don’t look now, Sarah, but you just did those things. And bravo to you for so eloquently capturing the dichotomy of loving your family frenzy while also craving something for yourself.
I did have the luxury of figuring out who I was before becoming a mother. You remind me not to squander that knowledge now that parenting is such a vast portion of my life. And for that I thank you.
Thank you, Thank you, Gale. It is a wide and mind-boggling dichotomy isn’t it? One that I alternately feel guilty for focusing on and relish the distraction of knowing that not everything is peaches and roses all of the time, that there is somewhere OTHER my body longs to be from time to time (most of the time).
As far as not having the chance to get to know ME all that well before kids (you know, stable/happy me) I can tell you this: I don’t want to rush my children or myself over the next 20 years, but I am looking forward to retirement. Peace. Time. And, of course, I say that now at 31 and am sure will be looking for the rewind button in just a short while (and will be embarrassed that I ever wrote and thought that).
:)
Sarah, get playdates for your children, take a weekend off, arrange a sitter, do something to get away for a few days, you need it, hell we all need it. Make it happen! That’s my advice anyway, cuz I need it to and beg for it daily.
I hear you, girlfriend. I sure as shit could use a getaway. To remember what it’s like to miss my kids and have time for me. Jen and I are working on it. Thing is, one week after I get back I’m sure I’ll be ready to leave again. For how long are you supposed to feel refueled after a getaway? I never seem to make it long enough!
I love this: “Life is blood. Rushing. Torrents of blood.”
Yes.
I empathize, and have no answers at all.
And while I’ve had two boys close in age, not three, I’ve had them solo all these years. No network, no other parent to help, no family. So, likely comparable chaos, clamor, exhaustion, frustration though two and all their stuff fit in the car a little easier. . .
The fatigue and flurry goes with the territory. And you’re right, too, that as they get older the workload gets heavier. But it is a different workload. To some extent, less physical, other than the non-stop driving.
And yes, I understand wanting more. More self. And more kids. A contradiction, and not a contradiction at all. The stuff of an expansive heart, and fullness of living.
“And yes, I understand wanting more. More self. And more kids. A contradiction, and not a contradiction at all. The stuff of an expansive heart, and fullness of living.”
Thank you, Wolf. It’s kind of exactly what I needed to hear. As always, you are a solid reminder that LIFE IS REAL and MY WORDS ARE REAL and that they mean more than even I realize most of the time. You have an uncanny way of distilling it all and adding your own glorious insight.
Jen (I am pretty sure) wrote a post a while back in which she has a line about just settling into this new person who she had become, not fighting it, just getting comfortable with it. I have the quote actually on my wall in my closet. But I’m not home now, so forgive me. I read it often (you’d think not so often, since I can’t do it verbatim, but…). I struggle so much with it…figuring out who I was BEFORE the kids, who I want to be NOW and in the future, who I SHOULD be, most of all. I think often: this is who I am now…a mother who wants to be other things too. I have said before, I wish I could be a woman who happens to be a mother, but it’s impossible. At least if you are actually loving and caring and cleaning and packing swimsuits for (almost) everyone. Sorry, I think I am rambling too.
Liz, you brought me back to an old post of mine and for that I am very grateful. I should read old words more often. As reminders of hope and comfort.
From a post about my friend Lily being a new mom–http://momalom.com/2009/08/newly-mothering/
“But of all my oopses, it was the greatest one. And now here I am. A suburban Connecticut mom to three boys – someone who appears conservative-looking, I was told yesterday. After carrying, delivering and cursing out three children, it’s now fun for me to talk with new moms. There is something nostalgic about it already – which is ridiculous when you have a one year old at home – and I can remember the baby days of being a new mom and that fuzzy unknown feeling. A fullness I didn’t know how to categorize. Now I know what it is. Motherhood. And, simply, Family. My Family. A family birthed, quite literally, by me. But 7 years ago I didn’t know what motherhood meant. Who I was. What was going to happen to me. How I would change. How I would stay the same. What I would love, and loathe, and miss about myself. It was an entirely new kind of identity crisis. I wasn’t lost. I was found. I just had to move in, get comfortable, settle down with a new me.”
I think this last sentence is what you were referring to, yes?
And being a woman who happens to be a mother? Impossible, right? It’s comfort knowing that at least many of us are struggling with many of the same things.
HA! So it’s been YOUR words on my wall all along…hmmm. I quoted you to you? Hmmm..and not even so well, at that!
This line: “I love it. And yet. I never had time to figure out the me I was before I had kids. But now that me is defined by her kids. ”
I am in tears with this line…it doesn’t get more accurate, more TRUTH than that!
Thanks, Shana! Yes, the ME that’s in there somewhere. Yes, the ME that is totally and completely defined by my kids even when my kids are nowhere near. My brain has been forever changed–which I love, but which scares me to pieces. It will never go back, will it?
Sarah – I sat here yesterday, after reading this fairly early, and left the comment space open. I am at a loss for words. KNOW that the ME that is inside does find its way out. KNOW that it takes time as you know that right now time is at a premium. KNOW that we are all here with you!!
I’m pretty new to following your blog, but I have to tell you it is posts like this that are going to keep me coming back. I just want to nod and agree through it all. ESPECIALLY your response to Jillian’s comment – about how long are we supposed to feel re-fueled for. I have a “child-free”/work/me day every Tuesday. Sometimes I end up volunteering at school or working like a demon, but it’s supposed to refuel me. Usually lasts until about 6pm on Tuesday (2 hours after they get home). Not long enough obviously!!
Hey Laurie. Welcome! And thank you. It’s funny to me what posts resonate with people. I typed this off so fast, so exhausted, and barely managed a quick grammar edit before sending it off to cyberspace. And yet, people respond. There are universal truths in motherhood that often come out even when I’m most exhausted. Sometimes thinking and thinking and thinking about it is just too hard and, for me, just muddles my words.
And really, how long ARE you supposed to feel refueled? I mean, is one hour away supposed to equal some sort of time back home? Is there some equation? Because I can’t figure it out at all. I’m home today in a quiet house sans kids. This NEVER happens. But thanks to my stupid broken van, here I am. Refueling? Perhaps. Enjoying the quiet? Definitely. Does this mean I should welcome the loud, chaotic mess of boys with happy, open arms when they arrive back home and be content with it for the next 24 hours? I don’t know. I just don’t know.
Glad to have you here!