Sarah writes

June 8, 2010


Max throws a cup at me and screams “I want juice!” Ethan climbs onto the kitchen counter and stands on his tippy toes, rummaging through the snack bin. Jamis says, “Mom, Mom, did you hear me?” for the third time. And then, “I asked you three times.” Excuse me, I think to myself, doesn’t that make for six requests? For the same thing?

The phone rings. I answer it. It’s my husband on the line. He needs something, too. I pull Ethan off the counter and walk out of the kitchen, down the hall, trying to find some quiet to hear his request. But they follow, one by one by one.

I glare at the kids to be quiet. I sit at the computer and push the puppy off my lap. In my mind I am pleading for someone to waltz through the front door and take care of everyone’s wants and needs, including my inner desperate plea for peace and quiet.

I’ve blocked them out while on the phone and they’ve finally dispersed from my immediate area. However, they are in no less trouble than they were before. The baby has pushed the stool back to the counter and again teeters on the edge. Jamis has disappeared, which sounds good, if I knew he wasn’t actually doing something somewhere that he shouldn’t be doing without asking, like sneaking candy, playing that damn Pokemon game again, or jumping on the trampoline. Max has wrestled the juice jug from the refrigerator and is in mid-pour, or rather, mid-disaster.

And there it is–my life in mid-disaster. All the time.

The doorbell rings while I’m drafting and emailing an invoice to one of my husband’s clients. It is not my rescue. Just FedEx, or UPS, delivering another large box to our house. We are full of them. We are so full of them that we are quite friendly with the delivery people. I figure they must be annoyed with us. I am annoyed with us. Too many boxes. Too much clutter. I can’t clear a path through the house any more than I can clear a path through my mind.

I am exhausted by the living of life.

I get off the phone. I push the package to the corner of the hall. I get juice for Max and a granola bar for Ethan. I walk outside and find Jamis laying on the trampoline, the Nintendo game in hand, and a tootsie roll tucked inside his cheek. The dog follows.

I walk inside and Ethan’s got my phone. I take it away and he throws himself to the ground. Max messes with the buttons on the tv. I turn it on and run and hide. The dog follows.

I have to pee. The dog follows.

I settle the kids in bed. The dog is happy by my side on the couch or on the bed. I take three deep breaths and listen to the quiet. My husband finally walks in the back door. He has not seen me or the children since the morning before. He will sit down on the computer soon to keep working. But first he tells me everything about his day. Everything that he still has to do. Tonight. Tomorrow. The next day.

I don’t say anything. I am his only colleague and all I can do at this time of day is give my presence. My ear. But I am elsewhere. Thinking about all the times I yelled at my kids. And the way I feel immune to myself and how I hate it. Thinking about all the times I wanted to cry for all the things I had to do. The fights I had to break up. The snacks I had to dole out. The trash on the floor and in my mind. All of it. I’m tired. I’ve exhausted myself.

Everyone needs me, I think. All of the time. I am so needed.

I know I am lucky. Ultimately so very, very lucky. But a lot of the time I just feel like I’m going to fail them. And myself. And life, in general, as if it required for my college degree. Life, on the 400-level. This course is a bitch and I’m sick of pop-quizzes.

Read More in motherhood, Sarah Writes
Christine LaRocque writes

Sarah, dear Sarah. I hear you, I know this, and though I’m powerless to help you in this moment (because honey, if I could I’d be there and I’d whisk you away for a little bit of inner peace). But because I’m not, you need, YOU MUST find a chance to recharge. This is not healthy. And yes you are blessed, but you are not lucky. The situation is far from it and you are so deserving of more.

“Thinking about all the times I wanted to cry for all the things I had to do.” Try not to think about those things. (I know, so quippy, but true). Try to just take a deep breath, focus on the moment at hand and what you can do to make it better. If you can. INSIST on you. There is no shame, or guilt to be had from that. Because, in some ways you are right, perhaps things will go to pot because they need. But what good are you if you aren’t true to yourself first?

Please, please let me know if there is anything I can do.
.-= Christine LaRocque´s last blog ..Budding buddies and all that is sibling =-.


TheKitchenWitch writes

You sound like a drowning woman. And you are. I think we all understand the feeling of constantly, overwhelmingly being needed by EVERYone. For EVERYthing.

But damn, you’re doing this almost completely alone.

I don’t know how you’re functioning. Just the picture of those 3 boys, up to mischief and mayhem, made me tired. There’s so much just in that quick snapshot.

Love you. Here for you if you need me.
.-= TheKitchenWitch´s last blog ..Minted Watermelon and Lemon Ice Pops =-.


Kate writes

I know this feelinng. I hate the clutter, the crowding, the endlessness of repeating tasks.
I put a lot of snacks and art supplies where the kids can get to them. We watch too much tv. And every night I try to let go of what makes me bristle. Why did I get so upset about shoes again? Really?!?
Be forgiving of yourself. Choose small things to make it easier. Even if it means more candy for a little while.
And know you are not alone.
.-= Kate´s last blog ..Books I read after a bad day =-.


Justine writes

I am beginning to think that there is no ideal solution. The grass is always greener no matter what side of the fence you’re on. I hope to stay home with my kid someday and of course, being a full time mom now makes that goal sound like the most ideal situation, yet your reality reminds me that there will be uphill battles no matter what we do.

You are there, and sometimes you just don’t want to me. As opposed to me, who isn’t there and wishes desperately that I am. Why can’t we all find that happy medium, that sweet spot that warms us like a cozy fire in the winter?

I’d like to think that it’s because parenting would then be too easy, and without hardships to overcome, how can our children learn from us the fortitude and resolve we need to do the right thing? At least that’s what I tell myself so I can sleep at night.

I hope you will find the peace you need Sarah. While we can’t always have what we want, we can certainly try to catch a break. We definitely need those from time to time.
.-= Justine´s last blog ..What if the blade was sharp? =-.


Jen replies

Justine, I had to respond to this because I work part time and am home part time, and it still never feels balanced. My partner and I care for our kids, each work part time, don’t use child care or babysitters. It sounds ideal, and in many ways it is. But it is still messy. And chaotic. And loud. And disorganized. And I am always wanting something; something more or different. Something for me. I guess what I mean to say is that, well, it’s not too easy. And I feel strongly that if it gets easy than we all are overlooking something. But I don’t mean to reprimand you; only to tell you that we all do the best we can. That we must all make the choices that are best for our family and, we hope, best for us as parents. And we must be willing to make new choices when we feel we must. And catching a break, as you say, is so crucial. And that is why Sarah and I are here in this blog world. Because support from readers like you ARE a break. A breath. And a tiny moment of peace.


Justine replies

Hmm…this is not making a case for my goal of staying home part time within the year. LOL. But I hear you – there is no ideal. In the end, what matters is that we do what we can and must with what we have. Little be it or much.
.-= Justine´s last blog ..What if the blade was sharp? =-.


Amber writes

Yes. The busyness. The clutter. The chaos. Overwhelming and–sometimes–too much. The husband gone. The house a mess. This is something that I can picture all too well.

At the same time, you know it will get better, eventually. Days, or weeks, when chaos rules shreds your tranquility. You start to feel zombieish, putting one foot in front of the other only because it is a habit. You love your children, love your life, but there are moments, days, when things fall to pieces.

You are a fabulous mom. Don’t count those mistakes you have made the day, focus on how you can improve tomorrow (I know…easier said). Realistic things. Don’t be so hard on yourself, you are solo parenting in many ways and this is so difficult. I hope you keep writing and I also hope you find peace and tranquility soon.
.-= Amber´s last blog ..Just Call Me Dr. Ferber =-.


Lindsey writes

“I am exhausted by the living of my life.”
I relate to this so much. And I also feel this incredibly awareness that the day will come – SOON! – when we will miss these days. So that adds a layer of pressure to me to enjoy it enjoy it enjoy it! And sometimes I rebel and just want to go bury my head in my covers, all alone.
I don’t have anything helpful to say other than I know exactly what you are talking about.


ShannonL writes

Wow, you can never just be alone. You need to (somehow) find time for yourself. Only you (not even the dog). Just to breathe. To relax. You are pretty much flying solo and you are doing A LOT. Much more than me, and I still get those feelings of being overwhelmed, stressed and exhausted. Please take care of yourself. Everyone needs you, but YOU need you, too. You need to come first (at least sometimes) for you AND for your family.
.-= ShannonL´s last blog ..MLB: Mommy Loves Baseball =-.


Heather of the EO writes

You see, friend. Sure, I’ve been there, but my heart hurts for you right now because I’m in some sort of strange alternate universe stage over here. There’s so little chaos and so much quiet and peace (Please don’t punch me) SO. What I wish is that I could be that person walking through the door, pushing you to the bathroom for a candle and book bath (with an ALCOHOLIC beverage). And then I would play with your kiddos and wear them out thoroughly and then they’d zonk right out early and we would sit and talk in the quiet.

This mom stuff is so freaking hard, and my heart hurts for you.

P.S. I would even clean up the boxes. I work wonders with finding places for things so that it’s as if they aren’t there.
.-= Heather of the EO´s last blog ..Releasing =-.


Alex@LateEnough writes

The daily-ness of life is always what gets me. Give me a major crisis and we all come together. Give me a sink of dirty dishes and a doorbell ringing and I catch myself in mid-scream.

And at night I lie there wishing I could’ve been the mom that I want to be. And worrying that the gulf is widening between who I am and who she is.

But it’s not. My husband and I are sitting down tonight to rethink and rework our schedules. Discuss our needs. Our wants. And shrink the gap. For a bit.

You aren’t alone. It’s not hopeless. But here’s a {hug}. And a prayer if you’re into that sort of thing.
.-= Alex@LateEnough´s last blog ..My Children Or My Dog =-.


Kimberly writes

I’m a stranger but you words hit so close to home I just had to leave some sort of comment, pathetic and ineffective at expressing my thoughts though it might be. I just had the perfect day on Saturday. Perfect. And yesterday it was as if it had never existed and suddenly I didn’t recognize myself and I just wanted to go to sleep and have that day and every other be over. At least for a while. Just to have some peace, like that brief taste of it I’d had just a couple days before.

There are days when I’m so needed I want to scream, because I feel like I’m being tugged in every direction at once. But then there are the days when somehow, for some reason I can’t begin to fathom, everything is suddenly okay and quiet and DOABLE. I wish you such a day. Soon. They’re what pull us through, those tastes of joy in the midst of the chaos.
.-= Kimberly´s last blog ..Swinging =-.


Gibby writes

Ah, I get this. I so get this. Just treading water to keep my head afloat. I wish I had an answer, but unfortunately I do not. But do know that you are not alone! Thank goodness for this world of blogging, where we can come together for support.
.-= Gibby´s last blog ..!!! =-.


Alix writes

Wow. This is me, too – right down to the boxes and the husband who is always on the road or at his computer. He is working so hard – for us – but I still find myself getting angry at him for never being there. Because, like you, I am tired. So tired. Tired of someone (usually multiple someones) always needing something and never having a second to myself – except once everyone’s asleep, when I’m too tired to move or think. And so I go to bed and wake up to do the same thing the next day – to endlessly tread water and try not to drown in constant needs, demands and tasks of life with 3 small children. I, too, know that I am fortunate – I have a nice house, 3 healthy kids, a loving husband. But I am so tired. So overwhelmed. But not alone, at least. Thank you for letting me know that. We will survive, right? Just keep on keepin’ on…


Melissa writes

I am so sorry for the way you are feeling. Honestly, I could have written this myself, today. I am so glad you wrote it, so much better than I could have. I started to well up while reading it, especially ” can’t clear a path through the house any more than I can clear a path through my mind.” So eloquent. I know that my complimenting your writing is probably the last thing you need to hear right now, so I’ll just send lots of ((((hugs)))).
.-= Melissa´s last blog ..Finding the !!! in a Very Long Weekend =-.


denise writes

Nodding. Do you feel that pulsing? It’s me, nodding. Vigorously nodding. In agreement. In sympathy. In oh-my-GOD-I-understand acknowledgment. You have such grace with your words.


seekingelevation writes

I told my best friend yesterday that I was all done parenting. I told my husband today that I KNOW I love my kids desperately, but right now I can’t quite conjure up all of those emotions because I’m too damn tired. I want to pee with the door closed. That’s it. They say that one day we’ll look back on these days and laugh at ourselves. I hope. I’m beginning to see what the big fuss is about grandbabies. You really do just get to love on them and then send them home. Huh. We have to hang in there until our kids can reproduce.
.-= seekingelevation´s last blog ..Home is where. . . =-.


ck replies

A postal worker told me the same thing this morning while my girls were hanging on the velvet ropes and running in and out of the whooshing doors and shrieking and knocking over the assembled packing boxes and pushing each other into the counter. Clearly, she was a grandmother.


alexis writes

can i just say amen? this is the EXACT feeling i had yesterday when i was about to walk out the door to the gym–kids dressed, me in my exercise clothes, daycare appointment in 10 minutes, only to realize my keys were locked in the car. and my husband, who had the spare set, was stuck at work. i sat down on the floor in a heap of my kids and my purse and cried.

then the dog pooped on the floor.

so thank you for this post, it made me happy to know that i’m not alone. happy at your expense, sorry about that, but happy nonetheless. :)
.-= alexis´s last blog ..hello sweethearts. =-.


Elizabeth Flora Ross writes

I can completely relate to this, and I only have one child! Well, I also have a husband, and that really counts as a child, doesn’t it? When I’m feeling like this I call on my mom to come sit w/the wee one while I go get a pedicure. Sitting and being pampered for a short while, while I don’t have to do anything for anyone is magical. It doesn’t last nearly long enough, but it is something. Do you have someone you can call on to give you a quick break?


C @ Kid Things writes

I had one of those days this weekend, pretty much all weekend. It never stops, one thing after another, pulled in every direction without a moment to breathe. Motherhood is hard, so very, very hard.
.-= C @ Kid Things´s last blog ..Scamming the People =-.


Amanda writes

Sometimes I can feel myself building up resentment and “if you only knews,” sometimes it’s for the girls, sometimes for my husband. When I let myself go too far, I explode. The other night we did a round robin of all the things we need to work on— 4 year old: “I need to work on not losin’ it.” Almost 6 year old: “I need to not always make it a contest.” 2 year old: silence, Me: “Fin, maybe you could work on not grabbing or hitting, you think?” She nodded with devilish smile (shrug) Me: “I need to work on forgetting, I forget to do things you ask sometimes.” Then, “What can dad work on?” They all said together, “Not yelling.” It was the first time I ever involved them in a calm, rational discussion about stuff we all do. I has tempered everyone’s bad habits.

All this said, 3 on your own ain’t easy, harder still if he’s working extra. Try to remember we aren’t failing we are perfecting. Always improving.

.-= Amanda´s last blog ..Can it be? =-.


Liz @ Peace, Love & Guacamole replies

I am so stealing this idea! What a concept…a calm, rational discussion with children.
.-= Liz @ Peace, Love & Guacamole´s last blog ..Artificial intelligence =-.


Tory Minus writes

I am the stay-at-home Mom to four under the age of 9, so I can definitely relate. But before I begin venting about my own trials and tribulations of being everything to everybody, I want to compliment you on your fabulous writing skills! I think it’s great you have this blog so you can release some of the tension in your life.

Before I decided to stay at home w/ the kiddos full-time, I was an elementary school teacher. Each year, I began the nine weeks by passing out a writing journal for my students. I believe journaling/blogging/social networking is a great resource for people (especially stay-at-home Moms) because it gives us a voice, a say in our life when others (like husbands & children) may not have the time or desire to listen to our problems.

Not too long after I became a SAH Mom, I knew my inner-chords were being stretched and about to POP! My husband sensed this too, and we decided it was worth every penny to send our little ones to daycare 1 day a week. Now, I don’t know your situation or how you feel about this, but I promise…IT’S WORTH IT!!! I gave up other things so we could afford 1 day of Mommy’s Day Out. I hope you think about it. If you ever need an ear, look me up on my blog or shoot me an email.


ck writes

(((hugs, Sarah))) I so felt this – all of it. Drowning in the everyday. The days we all barely get through and then hate ourselves (and other people) for. And even though it was about you, your husband, your three boys, and your puppy, I felt like it was written about me. Thank you for giving it a voice.


BigLittleWolf writes

Ugh. I empathize. My two were usually accompanied by several more because I was “the mom who worked from home.” Chaos. Constantly. Years of it.

You’ve written it brilliantly, in all its wearying and galling finery. No answers. You just live through it, somehow, hoping for a break now and then. And eat lots of those cupcakes. Vanilla and chocolate.
.-= BigLittleWolf´s last blog ..How to recognize value =-.


Aging Mommy writes

Sarah thank you for writing this post. Why? Because reading it makes me feel so very much less alone with my own thoughts and feelings right now. When I have lived all day long in Mommyland which is all too often a solo parenting effort as my husband works long hours and travels, all I want in the evening is to remove myself to a place of piece and quiet and try through tiredness to achieve some time for me. It is hard. I have no energy or brain capacity left to talk to my husband about his work and day and he does not get this at all. It sometimes feels we are living on different planets that only rarely collide.


Heather writes

I’m right there with you girl, especially when I’ve FINALLY gotten everyone handled and the cat starts meowing for me to feed her. Really? Really?! It’s exhausting.

You do need to find a way to recharge, but sometimes that seems like an added measure of planning in and of itself that you just don’t have the energy for. If I figure it out I’ll let you know, but in the meantime at least you know you’re not alone.
.-= Heather´s last blog ..T.G.I.M. =-.


Allison @ Alli 'n Son writes

I know exactly how you feel. Well, maybe not exactly as I only have one kid. But I can relate. When my hubby travels, at the end of the week I’m so tired that I can’t think. I can’t function. I can’t breath.

And the dogs, they are always my last straw. Just when I want to sit down to read, blog or whatever, they are at my feet. Begging to be fed. Let outside. Cuddled. I just want to scream, LEAVE ME ALONE. Instead, I drag my butt back up and take care of them.

Please take a few moments for yourself to recharge. Or at least devour some good chocolate.
.-= Allison @ Alli ‘n Son´s last blog ..Deep in the Potty Trenches =-.


Kristen @ Motherese writes

It’s always something, isn’t it? Spilled juice or the doorbell or having to pee or tornadoes or diarrhea. It’s just always something.

Clearly this post has struck a chord with your soul-sisters out here, who know exactly how you felt as you navigated – and felt powerless to navigate – all of those needs.

No answers here. Just sending you connection. And a wish for a moment of silence. Of brothers happily playing together. Of early bedtimes.

.-= Kristen @ Motherese´s last blog ..Life After Yes, Chapters 12-22 =-.


jen writes

oh my. the feeling needed. allthetime the feeling needed. wanted.
the giving of yourself.

i’m there. daily. too. i can’t send a rescue … but i can hold a hand. and sometimes that’s ok too.
.-= jen´s last blog ..i heart play =-.


Meagan writes

You did it. You captured what it looks like to be a mother to three kids….and to do it essentially alone. I breathe that same chaotic air. Praise you for getting it! Thank you for sharing it!! And know that you are not the only one going through it!
.-= Meagan´s last blog ..Life is Messy =-.


Eva @ Eva Evolving writes

That picture looks like “mid-disaster.” I’m not sure I want to know what happened next…

Reading your post, Sarah, and all these heartfelt comments, makes me wish for a super power. Not flying or invisibility or breathing fire. I want the super power that lets me wave my hand ever so slightly and send a boost of energy to help you. Like when I see someone walking on the sidewalk carrying heavy groceries, I wish I could just send a little burst of energy that would make the bags a bit lighter. Or when I pass people waiting at the bus stop in frigid Minnesota winters, I want to send a little breeze of warmth their way. And for you, I want to send positive energy. That tomorrow you’d have a little break, that things would let up ever so slightly. You’d wake feeling surprisingly rested, your boys would behave like you’ve never seen before, the dog would let you pee alone. That is my wish for you… just a little boost when you most need it.

Thinking of you and sending good vibes your way, even if I don’t have a super power!
.-= Eva @ Eva Evolving´s last blog ..Bringing that vacation happiness home =-.


Jo@Mylestones writes

So much of life is lived mid-disaster. So. MUCH. And I’m no stranger to that desire to run and hide, to wishing it was easier (or at least cleaner, less cluttered, less chaotic).
But even the mid-disaster stage is over before we want it to be. And I tell myself this–that the empty nest will be eerily quiet–and that I’ll wish again for these days, for my little birds to be chirping the hell away, making me crazy.
.-= Jo@Mylestones´s last blog ..Wonders Never Cease =-.


Maria writes

Oh Sarah, how I understand! Of doing, always, what someone needs or wants, of the endless noise and fights and I want’s…of never having enough energy for the things I used to do.

Of husbands who burn themselves out to keep food on the table but rarely get a break, of just everything…

There are days when I feel I am going mad. You are not alone. Sending you hugs…
.-= Maria´s last blog ..365 days older… =-.


Hear Mum Roar writes

You’re definitely not a failure. I think it’s like this for all of us parents. I echo everyone else’s sentiments: time to get out of there for a few hours or days and recharge those batteries!
.-= Hear Mum Roar´s last blog ..Trial to make SRE time fairer for non religious students =-.


Missy writes

Oh, I wish I had words to solve it all. Intellectually, I understood that parenthood + the rest of life would equal non-stop, all the time, go, go, go and do, do, do. But emotionally, I was really unprepared. I’ve hidden in my closet, screaming into my sweaters, crying angry, frustrated tears a few – okay, more than a few – times.

You have not failed. You will not fail. Acknowledging the difficulty – and frequent suckitude – of it all is important. You’re not a Stepford Wife! So keep talking about it and keep writing about it. And keep doing what you’re doing.


Kirsten writes

wow. your commenters all have mentioned my very best ideas, and offered way more than my very best words of comfort. you have reached the hearts of so many with this post!

you are a good mom to want to be better. when we stop wanting to be better is when we have failed. and maybe – just maybe – the ability to be better comes from the space to see how. when the boxes block your visual space and the stress blocks your mental space, then it is time to shove ‘em both out of the way and Make Space. maybe an hour of exercise, an hour with a neighborhood teenager watching the boys, whatever. just get space for your head.

none of us can function without space. [she says, with her foot balanced precariously on a stack of not one, not two, but THREE boxes.]
.-= Kirsten´s last blog ..Morning Person =-.


Melissa writes

Hooray for advice from faster commenters than I!

It’s so, so hard when the other parent has to do so much away from the kids. He’s going, going, doing, busy all the time, so you have to be, too, and it’s ROUGH. Hang in there.

Also, I’d like to point out that the fact that you’re here in Life 400 means that you passed 100, 200, and 300– you must be doing something right.
.-= Melissa´s last blog ..parked =-.


Linda at Bar Mitzvahzilla writes

I can relate, Sarah, because your “life in mid-disaster” is my midlife amid disaster. The difference at this point seems to be that the things driving me nuts are my menopausally depleting hormones.

But here’s the deal about little kids: that’s really hard work. Even when I pick up my 10 and 14-year-old from school, they both want to talk at once, then when I make them take turns they fight, then I have to be the arbiter, then they bicker with me. Mom as the master of ceremonies in a three-ring circus.
.-= Linda at Bar Mitzvahzilla´s last blog ..Tween Sophisticate =-.


Kim Luu writes

ooh Sarah,

My heart goes out to you. I wished you were nearby and I could pop by to help you out for one night. You’ve captured all the chaotic mess that life is.

Tory gave a great recommendation about getting day care for just one day a week or even one day a month to give you a break. Moms are caregivers just as much as those who are taking care of their elderly parents. Everyone needs a break or they will break.

You need to take care of you. Don’t let it get to boiling point.
.-= Kim Luu´s last blog ..Ballgowns and Baby Bottles – Supporting Our Troops =-.


A Crafty Mom writes

I’m so glad you’ve received so many fabulous and supportive comments – I, too, can totally relate. I have three kids and a dog and THAT alone is too much for me some days. Then throw in something like my husband traveling, one of them sick, a change in routine – and all hell breaks lose, literally. Some days the only thing that gets me by is knowing it will end – that they will in the blink of an eye grow up and not need me so much anymore. People tell us we’ll look back on this time later and “wish we could go back” but I am going to have to admit that there are days (like yours) where I wish I could fast forward . . . just a bit.


Charlotte writes

I sometimes suffocate from the constant neediness of my family. They like to pile on, too. One asks for something and then they all need something and it makes me want to scream. Sometimes it actually makes me scream.

So yeah, I get this post. Thanks for writing it, it made me feel better.
.-= Charlotte´s last blog ..They’ve taken over my bathroom =-.


Belinda Munoz + The Halfway Point writes

Sarah, I have no words other than your writing sparkles and I’m sending you thoughts for quieter, calmer days (or at least a minute or two).


Elizabeth (@claritychaos) writes

Hi. Me too. (arm link.)
.-= Elizabeth (@claritychaos)´s last blog ..starfish =-.


becca writes

Um… thank you for getting inside my brain and writing this post for me. I shall just cut and paste and post it tomorrow. Do you mind? I am right. there. Right there with you. Especially, ” I am annoyed with us. Too many boxes. Too much clutter. I can’t clear a path through the house any more than I can clear a path through my mind.” I am always so annoyed with us. And I detest that feeling.

I’m here. I wish I was there. But I’m here. Always for you.



Liz @ Peace, Love & Guacamole writes

Right there with ya! I’m sending you deep breaths and “om.”

And hoping your next dog is actually a hamster…I hear they run AWAY from their caretakers.
.-= Liz @ Peace, Love & Guacamole´s last blog ..Artificial intelligence =-.


Stacia writes

Let’s be mid-disaster together. Then it’s not so overwhelming and all-consuming … I hope??
.-= Stacia´s last blog ..Home Alone =-.


Heather @ One Take On Life writes

Yes I can so relate. I think in my head I ask for 5 minutes of peace so many times a day. Sometimes I even say it out loud. It is overwhelming to constantly be needed and yet also so rewarding.
I go to bed every night I think replaying what I did that day, wondering if I was good enough for my kids. I am right there with you.
.-= Heather @ One Take On Life´s last blog ..Wordless Wednesday: She’s his biggest fan =-.


Liz writes

There it is, right there: our lives as moms. Those moments when everything is happening and everything is really, in the grand scheme of things, nothing, but it feels like Everything. Managing daily life with kids is the most exhausting thing ever. And I feel so often guilty when I am totally overwhelmed, resentful, frustrated. Because yes, I know, these things…the needing us…they are good things, nothing things, but in those moments, they feel like Everything.


Tina @ Life Without Pink writes

Loved this article! I featured on my Friday Favorites!!!


Cranky Sarah writes

I haven’t read all the comments but I bet, I’m #50-something to say “I SO know what you mean!” Can it really be all busy all the time? Because even when we’re at home “lounging” in our PJ’s all day, it’s still a terribly busy day.
.-= Cranky Sarah´s last blog ..I don’t accept “Boys will be boys” =-.


Rudri writes

Sorry I am coming late to the conversation… I echo my fellow bloggers’ comments. It is overwhelming, chaotic, and so so tiring. And every minute of the day, you are reminding yourself that you are lucky, but as you said sometimes it is just exhausting living life. I just want the chatter to stop in my head, outside my head and everywhere in between. We can all relate.
.-= Rudri´s last blog ..A Detour =-.


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