A Day of Trenches
Someday I will think on days like today and shake my head and smile. There will probably be another mother in front of me, one who's had no sleep and who's toddlers are fighting and who hasn't had a twenty minute shower since there was a different man in the White House. Who can't remember what perfume smells like or what nail polish is for and who used to carry lipstick in her purse but now carries bandaids and baby wipes.
And she will be lamenting her sleeplessness. She will be lamenting the fighting, the yelling, the repetitive nature of motherhood. And me, in my wisdom, in my hindsight, will commiserate and smile. Thinking behind my commiseration, oh to have my babies small again. And I'll be worried about a chem test or SAT prep or what "the" girl said when he asked her to prom.
Just thinking those things gave me shivers.
But today - a day of trenches, today feels never ending and like a failure. I spend more time yelling at my 4yo to listen to me than I do explaining the world to him. My toddler feels emotional and unable to cope and that somehow feels like my fault; if only I had more time to dedicate to him learning to use "his self control" than he'd be more even. The laundry piles up and the dishes fill the sink and I'm moody and tired and getting kicked from the inside out while simultaneously getting pulled on from the outside in.
It will pass. It's just a day. It's not even a particularly awful day. I've had those. Hospital days and listless vomit filled days. And flu days where I don't have the luxury to lay around and be sick because I have to disinfect every surface I or the oldest child have touched because I'm scared down to my bones of my husband getting sick. Those are bad days. Fear filled days are far, far, far worse than days spent ensconced in trenches.
This is just a day. And I know that. But I'm bone tired and down on myself and this is just the reality of today.
And as I tell my oldest son on days when we just don't click ... "tomorrow will be a better day. Let's go to sleep."
And that advice or cliche, depending on your perspective, will hopefully sustain us all on this, a day of trenches.
Because invariably, tomorrow will be a better day.
And she will be lamenting her sleeplessness. She will be lamenting the fighting, the yelling, the repetitive nature of motherhood. And me, in my wisdom, in my hindsight, will commiserate and smile. Thinking behind my commiseration, oh to have my babies small again. And I'll be worried about a chem test or SAT prep or what "the" girl said when he asked her to prom.
Just thinking those things gave me shivers.
But today - a day of trenches, today feels never ending and like a failure. I spend more time yelling at my 4yo to listen to me than I do explaining the world to him. My toddler feels emotional and unable to cope and that somehow feels like my fault; if only I had more time to dedicate to him learning to use "his self control" than he'd be more even. The laundry piles up and the dishes fill the sink and I'm moody and tired and getting kicked from the inside out while simultaneously getting pulled on from the outside in.
It will pass. It's just a day. It's not even a particularly awful day. I've had those. Hospital days and listless vomit filled days. And flu days where I don't have the luxury to lay around and be sick because I have to disinfect every surface I or the oldest child have touched because I'm scared down to my bones of my husband getting sick. Those are bad days. Fear filled days are far, far, far worse than days spent ensconced in trenches.
This is just a day. And I know that. But I'm bone tired and down on myself and this is just the reality of today.
And as I tell my oldest son on days when we just don't click ... "tomorrow will be a better day. Let's go to sleep."
And that advice or cliche, depending on your perspective, will hopefully sustain us all on this, a day of trenches.
Because invariably, tomorrow will be a better day.
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