1. I'm exhausted. Literally sleep-deprived for the last 9 months or so.
2. I have one child who is an over-achiever, one child who is gifted, one child who struggles academically, one child who has no interest to read. Those are the ones in school, and it equates a plethora of homework/study habits in which I may or may not help.
3. I have a very busy husband who is doing his best to keep us alive. No, I'm not implying that we're dying --we're okay. But that's because he works so hard and is gone so much. It's the "gone so much" that is tough.
4. I have two in diapers, one of which who refuses to potty train and is, by far, the most stubborn child I have ever birthed. Yet.
5. I have a baby. And if he could, he'd have my attention all to himself, and honestly, if he was my only child, he would get it in a heartbeat.
6. Laundry for 8 people. Enough said.
7. I was supposed to go to Time Out For Women this weekend in Logan with a dear friend. It didn't work out, however, and I'm starting to wonder if I'll ever again have time to myself.
These things have caused me much grief. The first one alone is tough and is probably the end-all result of how I feel about everything else.
I just told my children this afternoon that if they want a weekend of awesomeness (in which I'm prone to give them, with this being Fall Break and all), then we have to get all the laundry AND chores done before tomorrow at noon. Groans aside, we all responded by eating snacks and playing with friends (well, I'm writing this blog post, but blogging is a friend to me!). See how my apathy has grown into procrastination and hypocrisy?
This morning I stared at all the laundry sitting in my room. I saw the dishes in the sink. I smelled a poopy diaper. I realized I was still in my bathrobe. I was the epitome of every left-wing feminist's disdain, and I faced some dark feelings: I didn't want to do it anymore.
When I hear about mothers who abandon their children I get angry. How could they do it? How could they just walk away? The selfishness is just brutal (and no, I'm not talking about women who run from abuse --I'm talking about women who just don't want to be wives and mothers, anymore). But you know what? This afternoon? I got it, I think. I understood.
I know, in the deepest part of my soul, that what I am doing is divine, important, and the greatest thing I could accomplish in my life. I do. I know it. I'm blessed. I fight for my rights as a mother, I lobby for change in rhetoric to place motherhood back to near-reverence among nations. But this job of mine garners very little appreciation from the very people I serve. And so today, in a dark moment, I wanted out.
It scared the crap out of me, dear reader. So, I chose to do something --anything --to get me to re-focus.
I got dressed. I went outside on the porch to watch my son while he played and the baby napped. I read a book. I pretended the laundry didn't matter (note: it really doesn't). I picked up my Kindergartner. I made lunch. I tidied up a little bit. I ran some errands and we ended up parked next to the Provo Temple with our Wendy's frosties in hand.
As I ate ice cream and looked at the House of God, nothing big really happened. I had prayed a lot while I drove around town, just leaving open-ended questions like, "Heavenly Father, what...?" and "Heavenly Father, why...?" but I didn't receive many answers, because my heart was still tired and bitter.
But I felt better. I looked at gorgeous Rock Canyon. I drove by the MTC and thought about Jessica (she went in today!). I drove through BYU campus and sighed as I saw my beloved Heritage Halls in stubble (they are building larger ones). My sister called, then, and we chatted about how we would spend our weekend with our mother (who is coming for her 35th BYU class reunion!). And that's it. *shrug
Honestly, nothing more happened, and I came home to the kids and gave them that ultimatum about cleaning the house.
One happy moment occurred, though, when I finally took a picture of the ivy on our back wall. I see it every time I look out the kitchen window. It's too far away to take from the window, but up close, it's beautiful:
You know, not much has changed. I'm still exhausted. I still have too much to do. But I no longer want to run away. I've come out of that dark moment and I am GLAD. Because now I know how to do it, I know I can do it, and so it means I'll recognize it and forsake it the next time it comes around.
But I still might need a few days on my own. I'm thinking London? ;)