I'm completely overwhelmed by summer vacation, and it's only day two.
This whole fear-of-summer thing is absolutely asinine for so many reasons:
1) I only have two kids.
2) The two kids go to daycare two times a week.
3) James was only in school half days, from 11:45 until 2:45.
4) I really don't even want to admit this one, but Jared is home on Fridays. He works on Saturdays instead.
5) We live one tenth of a mile from a beautiful, clean lake, and my in-laws live in town and have a pool that looks like it should be at Sandals Resort.
So really, I have one additional kid, for nine additional hours every week, and three of those hours, my husband's around. That sounds easy, doesn't it? It should be, it really should be.
But honestly? The older my kids get, the more overwhelmed I'm starting to feel with this whole motherhood thing. It used to feel so simple and natural to me, now it's just so different.
When James was smaller, he was easy, easy, easy. Then we had a nice, big four and a half year age gap and had another sweet, beautiful, (not easy), baby girl who I wouldn't trade for the entire world. Now as a toddler, with the exception of the screechy thing she does, she's really laid back and fun. A good napper, too.
But the fact is, all almost-two-year olds are hard to manage.
She drinks out of the dog dish, she drags my laptop case around and pushes it down the basement stairs, she unfolds the laundry that I just folded, and tries to drink cleaning chemicals. And this is all while James is tugging on my pant leg going, "Mom. Wanna play Star Wars with me? Who do ya wanna be? R2D2? Luke Skywalker? Who? You want the purple light saver? The red one? Which one? Or do you wanna be Darth Vader?"
Now, listen. I know it's a light saber, but he doesn't. And that sweet boy, who I love so much I could puke all over this computer screen, never stops talking. Never.
Honestly--and I mean this with every ounce of my existence--I don't know how moms of three, or four, or six kids do it. I'm not sure how they keep 'em all alive and keep themselves dressed.
Being a mother is so #$%^ing hard.
I used to think Oprah was an absolute a-hole when she'd say that stay-at-home moms have the hardest job on the planet. I mean c'mon, back when James was a baby, and I was chilling out in the afternoons watching Oprah, it wasn't really hard.
But these days? These days with my two super well behaved kids who regularly go to bed by 7 pm? I'm genuinely inclined to think that military boot camp would be a nice break. But then again, I really like to exericse. These days there are lunches to pack, and a business to run, and debts to pay, and projects to manage. There are conference calls to listen in on, and a lawn to mow, and unsolvable situations to solve, and hats to cover with glitter.
And me? Well? I ran out of eye liner three weeks ago and haven't been able to replace it yet.
I'm so mixed up by the fact that being a parent can be so frustratingly hard, and so intensely joyful at the very same moment. The love and the chaos makes me want to roll over and die for completely different reasons. My life is good, we don't have any problems worth speaking of, but still, some days feel pretty stinkin' problematic.
One minute I'm all, "I would rather shovel mud than stand in this kitchen with these kids for another thirty seconds." And the next minute I'm like, "No one on this planet can make juice-drinking as cute as Maggie makes it! Oh my word I LOVE HER SO MUCH!"
Please tell me I'm normal here. Please, please, please tell me I'm normal. Becuase if I'm not, and I need therapy, or counseling, or anger management, or energy work, or some other shiz like that, I have no idea how I'll squeeze that in.
And that reminds me, one of these days I really need to tell you about the nurse who tried to do reiki on my dog to cure him of his obsession with the laser pointer. You really need to know about this. Like you REALLY need to hear this story, because believe it or not, funny things still happen to me forty times a day. I'm just way to covered in boogers to be able to type 'em out.
Thanks for letting me vent. I wish we could have a group hug. I feel so close to you right now.