motherhood, parenthood

“Even if You don’t, my hope is You alone”

Times are really trying recently. I don’t feel like I’m in the right head space most of the time. I feel like I’m stuck in a place where I’m supposed to be going and where I should be. I feel like I’m settling, but still fighting. I feel.. angry. I feel frustrated. I feel.. all around hopeless, I guess. And it’s a silly place to be because I am where I’m supposed to be. I am where I am called to be at this moment. But I don’t know why I’m still fighting it so. We’re all called to do different things. We’re all.. meant to be someone. And that someone may not be the someone you thought you wanted to be. Maybe I’m just hopped up on these period hormones. Maybe I’m just sleep deprived and coming down from a sugar binge. But every day has just been waves upon waves upon waves just crashing down. Every minute, every hour. It’s something. Whether it’s the 15 minutes repeating to the kids to put their pants on only to have them rip them right off 15 minutes later or whether it’s the dog or cat marking territory or having accidents when they don’t get enough attention, I feel like I’m always on watch. I can’t step away for a moment because in that single moment I have eyes away from the babies (fur babies included), they find something new to wreck. I need to be 100% with all of four of them all the time. Hearing the cat scratching on the floor means he more than likely peed outside his litter box. Not getting home before 4pm almost always guarantees an accident from the dog. Turn your eyes away from the kids for a moment and they’ve gotten a hand on knives or flung their feces across the room. I’m just… not sure I’ve been called to do the right thing. I don’t think I’m cut out for this. And, I know, this stage doesn’t last forever. But it’s really, really challenging. And, yes, I know every mother out there is probably going through the same thing and I’m just whining and griping about this universally difficult feat which in turn makes me almost always feel worse. Knowing I’m failing more than others. Or is it that all mothers are miserably failing but some are just more adept at hiding it from others?

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family, parenthood

Different Day, Similar Shit

Wake up. See who’s awake (spoiler – most days, both are). Check diapers. Change diapers. Shower. Bring babies down. Bottles. TV show of the day (Cat in the Hat, Octonauts, Phineas and Ferb). Make coffee. Drink coffee. Sift through emails and go through voicemails for work. Snack / lunch (bananas, cheese, sandwich, more milk, yogurt). NAPS. I get some work and paperwork and organizing of the life done. Then – home stretch – the grandparents and the daddy come home. Dinner. Bath. Mosey until bedtime.

MODIFIED SCHEDULE:
INSTEAD OF NAPS…┬áNow, Dom naps while Shane rolls around the couch and living room munching on some snacks while half watching a TV show. Eventually his random shouts of excitement wake Dom up who in turn is brought downstairs if I am unable to put him back to sleep. Shane is left upstairs to nap. After a few minutes of protesting and crying, he goes quiet and passes out. Dom then is left to run around the living room requiring my constant attention until Shane eventually wakes up. Then both are rolling around the living room cranky and upset because they are both tired.
INSTEAD OF SMOOTH BATH TIMES… Since we have begun the exciting adventure of potty training, there have been multiple accidents in the potty both from the young one and the one we are attempting to potty train. Thus draining of the water, cleaning of the tub, rinsing of the babies, and re-filling the tub has been a frequent process.

Literally the same fights, the same conversations, the same everything. Just different days. Slightly different adventures. I’m just so freaking tired of repeating myself over and over and over and over and over and over and over again. And, yes, I know they’re just kids and that’s my job as a parent to reinforce the same things over and over and over again since that is how they learn. But I’m seriously losing my freaking mind. How many more days do I have to say “Toothbrush is for brushing teeth, not toilet” and “No kicking Mommy during diaper time”? I’m so over it most days. There is no coffee strong enough to fuel this shit.

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