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Stuck in the Muddle

One of the things that I hesitate to say out loud, but I’m saying it,(because really, what’s the point in pretending to be something I’m not?) is that I am so much happier now that school is back in session.  Let me just say that I believe 100% that me being a stay-at-home-mom at this time in my life, in my kids’ lives, is the best thing for my family.  I’ve realized that this is especially true in light of Sophie’s developmental delays.  I have worked my butt off in the past year to help her get caught up, and it has taken a lot out of me.  But she’s doing so amazingly well, and I know my being home and being able to work with her has played a big part in that.  So I know I am supposed to be home now, and to be 100% honest, I want to be home now.

And yet.

This summer, with a baby in the mix and two big kids constantly begging for attention or bugging each other, I nearly lost my flippin’ mind.  It was just not good.

My hats off to you homeschool moms, because if I had all three of my kids underfoot by myself five days a week, well, let’s just say it wouldn’t last long, because I’d be in the loony bin before you can say “xanaxicity“.

When my kids are gone part of the day at school, we enjoy each other more.  That’s just the way it is.  I must admit over the summer I raised my voice and said in frustration, “You guys are driving me crazy!” or “You guys are making me nuts!”  way too many times.  I just lost it.  There comes a point when I can take no more and I got there a lot this summer. And when Bobby got home, I wanted to go hide by myself and just be ALONE.

And while I have a wonderful husband who is a wonderful father, he will never understand what it’s like to be me, and I will never understand what it’s like to be him.  So when he sees me lose my cool, he generally does not understand.  But he’s just seeing that moment.  He hasn’t seen the twelve hours of incidents leading up to that, all the times I’ve been pushed and pushed and pushed.  He just sees it when I finally pop.  To him it’s the first time a child has committed the transgression in question, when in actuality, it may be the fifth or sixth time.  In any case, it’s one time too many.

So anyway. I’m admitting all that, but I’m still not sure what it says about me.  I just think when you have little kids in your face all day, it’s difficult.  And I love love love love LOVE them am doing the best I can to love the crap out of them, but sometimes I get tired of being a live-in (unpaid) servant, of the adult ADD that I’ve gotten from not being able to, for the love of all that’s holy, finish one. single. task. without being interrupted, and I LOSE IT.  Now that I’m in the throes of blissful fall, I’m realizing more and more how I spent the bulk of my summer in a state of anxiety and panic, mixed with frustration and anger.

I’m already saving my money so that the big kids can go to a week or two of day camp at Joshua’s school next summer.  Not kidding.  I’ve been amazed at how happy and efficient I’ve been this fall, and I’ve gotta figure out a way to make next summer better than this one that has just passed.

So.  Feel free to judge.  Or to admit you’re just the same. But that’s where I’m at.  Now, I’m off to enjoy my 2.5 hours of only having one kid home while I can.

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Scheducation

Last week when I wrote about hitting my stride as a mother, as an adult, as a stay-at-home mom, I was feeling quite nervous about the fact that Joshua was starting kindergarten, and about the fact that I had, in fact, committed myself to starting a schedule that very day. I’d been so brave as to speak it out loud to the girls in my house church, and to lure my friend Cortney (who posted about her own battle with Sir Schedule here) into keeping me accountable.

So, let me just say that your comments and feedback on that post were really, really helpful. A couple of you even linked to it and said you could have written it yourself. Do you know how much it means to me that my words mean something to YOU? That I am not the only one who carries those specific frustrations? It means the world. Thank you for telling me. Your comments buoyed me as I dipped my toe into the unknown waters that day.

Although, I think it would be more accurate to say I jumped right in! (Unlike when I took beginning swimming class for PE in college, because, at 20 years old, I still couldn’t go under water without holding my nose, and on the day we were learning to dive, the teacher literally had to PUSH me in. This time, I am happy to say, I propelled myself. But anyhoo.)

I stuck to my schedule. For five whole days. And you know what? I liked it! It worked for me. I exercised, I got housework done, I played with Sophie, I picked Joshua up from school. And I even had a little extra time some days! Here’s the schedule I made for myself:

Mornings M-F

7:30-8:15 breakfast, check email, blog
8:15-8:45 exercise
8:45-9:30 shower, get dressed, get Sophie dressed

9:30-10:00 bloggy business

10:00-10:30 dishes

10:30-12:00 errands, play time

12:00-12:30 lunch

12:30 – 1:00 chores

1:00 – 2:00 OPEN

2:00 leave to pick up Joshua

CHORES BY DAY
Every Day – sweep & vacuum living and dining room
Tues – laundry, sweep kitchen floor
Thurs – dust, clean bathrooms

It needs a little tweaking (for instance, picking up Joshua from school on time has required I move Sophie’s nap time, so part of chore time is generally spent trying to get her down for a nap) – but in general, it has worked really, really, well this week. I mean, I, who ABHOR exercise, have exercised five days this week! Because my schedule TOLD me to!

One thing I haven’t done is schedule the after-school/evening part of the day. I think next week I might try to schedule time in there for dinner preparation, as so far, I seem to be willing to do whatever my schedule tells me too. Who knew?

Of course, I am keeping it flexible to allow for playdates and appointments and things like that, but overall I am super-pleased, excited, and encouraged!! If you feel like you need to give it a try, GO FOR IT! I’ll even keep you accountable if you need me to. Let’s all have adventures in scheduling together!

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A SAHM’s Day in Numbers

Today was one of those draining days. It wasn’t particularly bad, and it had it’s sweet moments, but it left me, in a word, depleted. My husband had to work late and didn’t get home until 7:45. The kids badly needed a bath, and he usually takes the lead on that, but tonight, since he was going to be late I just did it, because they were starting to look pretty funky. As I dried Joshua off and watched the last of the bath water twirl and swirl down the drain like an aquatic ballerina, I saw the last of my energy go with it. I could feel it seeping out of my body, trying to pull my body with it. At that moment, I was so tired, curling up fully-clothed in the fetal position in the damp tub actually sounded real, real good.

Somehow I summoned the energy to get my two clean, yummy-smelling kiddos PJed and back downstairs, where I gave them each a cookie and plopped wearily on the couch. I wanted to become one with that couch. As I loafed in my exhausted state I urged my tired mind to come up with a reason, a rationale for why I felt so whooped. Although I’m not a math nerd like some people I know (*cough*Charles*cough), some numbers begin popping into my head. First, I thought of 4: the number of times I’ve swept the same living room floor where the kids have dropped food crumbs. Then other numbers just starting bouncing off my brain, breaking my day down into the minutiae whose sum = exhaustion.

7:30 the time I got up to get the kids ready for homeschool co-op
8:15 the time I decided the kids were too sick to go to co-op
37 (ish) the number of times I’ve wiped the kids noses today
3 the number of times I’ve watched various episodes of Word World
13 the number of goodie bags I made for some foreign college students in our area
5 the number of times Sophie pulled my hair out of my ponytail
6 the number of deep breaths I took to keep from yelling
2 the number of fish sticks Joshua ate for dinner
2 the number of fish sticks Joshua didn’t eat for dinner
3 the number of meals Sophie really did not eat at all
3 the number of diapers changed today
7 the number of times Sophie wiped her snotty nose on my shirt
2 the number of loads of laundry I did today
1 the number of wads of gum I removed from Joshua’s shoe
4 the number of Lysol wipes it took to get Sophie’s dinner tray clean

You get the picture. That’s the little stuff, done over and over and over again. It wears me the heck out and sometimes makes me feel resentful, like my time has been stolen from me. But if I’ll allow myself to focus on the big picture:

slim pickins?

(even if one half of the big picture is picking her nose in a very unlady-like manner), I know it’s not today’s 2 loads of laundry or the 2 uneaten fish sticks that matter. What matters most at the end of the day is that I have 2 little people who know that they are loved, safe, and protected by their mama. And that, for better or worse, is the number I’m placing my bets on.

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