After a week of taking care of my sick family, I finally reached my breaking point.
I was thinking last night how I wake up miserable most mornings. I try to hide how miserable I actually am. Maybe it seems like mild annoyance to those looking in from the outside. Who knows. But anyway, I thought about this blog and gratitude and thought I wasn't really starting the day in a grateful mindset. So I went to bed thinking I would really try to start my day with a grateful thought, even if I feel a sense of impending doom from the moment my eyes open. BUT, I woke up feeling sickly and tired myself and never bothered with a grateful thought.
I dropped my girls off at school, came home, showered and straightened up the house. After that I sat in my own misery until 11:35 when I have to leave the house to pick them back up from school. They begged me to go to the gym (where they get to play computers and do crafts, etc.) so I opted to go, even though I wasn't feeling up to it, in order to avoid all of the fighting and hitting and crying and whining that's been going on for the last week. I was actually surprised by the results of doing cardio for an hour. I felt good. I felt happy. The endorphins were flowing. It didn't last long.
The minute we got to the car, the hitting, the fighting, the whining, the crying, the tattling all began again. I immediately sank back into my normal depressed state. For anyone that believes being a stay at home mom has it easy, I challenge you to do it for a week. It is the hardest job I've ever had. It's liking having two bosses who are NEVER happy with your work and who are constantly battling to be the best, putting you in the middle and they are so not above using physical force. I want to be grateful. I really really do! I AM grateful for my two beautiful daughters. I AM grateful for the time I am getting to spend with them. It just gets all muddied with the day to day bs.
When we got home from the gym, there was just nothing but fighting and whining and tattling. I don't always have the answer, ya know? I don't always know who's done wrong. I don't always know what kind of punishment is appropriate or if it will even serve its purpose. I actually hardly EVER have the answers. I'm often at a loss for the right thing to do when it comes to my girls.
The breaking point came when we went to pick up pizza for dinner. I've trained them pretty well to stay by me when going through a parking lot if my hands are full and I can't hold on to them both. We got to the car and as I was putting the older one in her booster seat and buckling her up, my younger one (who had been standing near my leg when I began) disappeared. I yelled her name. I ran to the other side of the car. I didn't see her. She didn't respond. I ran back to the other side of the car. Not there. Called her name again, more panicked this time. No answer. Ran back to the other side. Not there. Then a woman points out she's on the other side of the car from me. We had both been going to the opposite side at the same time, never seeing each other. I scooped her up and, more scared than angry, told her she could never leave my side like that in a parking lot. That she scared me and she could've gotten hurt. I put her in her seat and as I was buckling her up, she began to well up and tell me she didn't love me anymore. I got in the driver's seat, buckled up and out it came. The tears just came up from a place inside, where I guess they've been building. A place that I guess was tired, beaten down, worn down and terrified that I had just almost lost my child.
I never want to cry in front of my children but this was NOT within my control. I had reached a breaking point. Emotion just took over and I couldn't even speak. All of my effort was being used up keeping my crying from turning into wailing. I don't think people recognize how metally and emotionally difficult it can be to spend the majority of your time with two battling siblings. I pulled myself together and drove home but I felt beaten down. The happy endorphins of the gym were long gone and gratitude wasn't even a word in my vocabulary.
So I sit here now, writing. I desperately want to be happy. I desperately want my children to be happy. I also desperately want for my children not to be the destroyers of mental health that they can tend to be (for me). You know, I never expect things to be easy (because they hardly ever have been) but I guess I just wish they could be easier. See. (God, I think I'm talking to you.) Not easy. Easier. Just easier. That's all.
Off to my anonymous self help program. ;) Maybe I'll find some words of wisdom there. Till next time.
I am grateful.
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