I really do not know where I am headed with this post, which probably means it will end up in my drafts only to be recovered as a diary entry a few months down the line reminding me of the night I wanted to runaway and not come back until my sleep debt was paid off and my children could fall asleep in less than 120 minutes.
I often write about how women – often stay at home women like myself – try to paint what we do as work and compare ourselves to working moms. More often than not the message comes across as look how hard we have it – you could never do what we do. It bothers me and I then rant and “attack” my fellow stay at home mothers, which rarely feels nice. However, today, after reaching what I am going to say is my breaking point (and really my husband is gone yet again this weekend so I don’t get to have a meltdown…just yet anyway), that many of the moms writing these pieces that rub me the wrong way – just want to say how hard it is for them and get some empathy or at least an outlet to complain and get a Lord, yes that is hard … without the well it you could have it worse or look at all you do have or being label the whiniest bitty on the block (even if I am the whiniest bitty on the block). Perhaps all they want is a trophy for having it the worst, but since we don’t give out those awards (and thankfully I would never win) we can start with some holy crap that really does suck.
I know my life could be harder. Tonight after a day of waking up at 4:30 and short naps that did nothing, but make things worse, my kids were not going to sleep, my house is seriously a disaster and my patience is completely gone. After one month of my “sleep routine” my kids might be going to bed earlier (we were starting with Nola going to bed at 11 PM or later folks), but at the expense of my sanity. Trying to get a 3 year old and 2 year old asleep in the same room is just not possible for me. Every suggestion does not work for my situation. The three times I let Nola wonder out of the room so Flynn could fall asleep without her wonderful voice serenading us, she has either pooped on the bathroom floor, sprayed her body and clothes with Jr Watkins Cleaning Solution or opened my computer and started doing “work”. It could be harder/worse – I could be rubbing the back of sick child or praying to the Lord to return a husband not from work, but from the heavens above. I could be laying there worrying about paying for dinner instead of cleaning up dinner. There are so many worse situations than the one I am in. I know that and remind myself of that while I rub Flynn’s back for the 112th minute. But it doesn’t make what I am experiencing right now “easy”. Yes, it could be worse and I am grateful for so many things, but I am also drowning in the night time bedtime routine disaster of doing it alone. I am drowning in the long weekends alone. I am seriously drowning in pregnancy and lack of sleep. I am drowning even though I am so grateful to be pregnant and have two wackos to wake me up at 4:30. I am sure there is advice that may help me solve these feelings or predicaments and I really need to figure them out, but quite frankly right now all I want to do is just sit here with my milk and cookies, whine, get some empathy and maybe win a parent award for having it the hardest. Just this once.