I’m struggling today.
I can’t seem to muster even a nanosecond of positivity. It’s making me feel so heavy inside and I’m not sure how to shake it off. Writing usually helps but I woke up uninspired today. I think I jinxed myself in yesterday’s post. Why did I have to talk about being inspired every morning?! I’m such a jerk sometimes.
The kids and I went outside for a walk earlier, but it didn’t help. Even crying in silence didn’t help. It’s such a glorious, beautiful day (clear, blue skies and sun) and yet all I could think about was walking—no running—away and leaving everything behind. That’s how I know I’m in bad shape. I tried so damn hard to fight it, but I failed.
Here’s why I’m having a tough day …
1) This quarantine is making my kids even more whiny, clingy, and needy than normal. If I had a nickel for every time one of them said “mom” or asked for something, I would be a gazillionaire. All I want is a minute—or an hour—of peace and quiet. Just to clear my head.
2) My house is a mess. I had forgotten how cluttered and dirty it feels to have everyone home, all day, every day. Crumbs blanketing the downstairs. Toy buckets upended all over the floor. Crayons, colored pencils, markers in every corner. Empty cups, bowls, and dishes on the tables, desk, and entertainment center. Shoes by the front and back doors. School worksheets scattered on my dining room table. For goodness sake, one corner of my family room has become a literal nursery for my daughter’s thousands of babies, and dinosaurs are crowded in every other nook and cranny. It doesn’t matter how often I clean, either. The mess returns within minutes. I try not to care. Really, I do. Why do I care? Why can’t I just let it go? I have no answers. I do know it’s a disaster for my good friend, anxiety, though.
3) I’m bored out of my ever-loving mind. But every time I attempt to do something for myself—like read, watch TV, write, cook/bake, clean out the basement or the upstairs, or even just sit in peace and listen to music—I’m reminded that I’m a mom and that my children are too young to understand why we’re quarantined in our home. And I get it, I do. I know they are as bored and stir-crazy as I am. I completely understand and sympathize, which is why I’ve been shoving my own needs to the side so I can cater to them and find fun things for them to do. Even just this morning, I secretly cut pieces of construction paper, wrote my daughter’s sight words on them, and taped them in special places all around the house for her to find (and learn). Then I sat down and created an indoor scavenger hunt for this weekend since it’s supposed to rain. So, I’m trying, believe me.
But then I get upset because why must parents be the entertainment director for their children—all the time? There’s already so much to do at our house: coloring books and crayons, paints and canvases, bookshelves full of books to read, board games, puzzles, activity books, a huge crafting bucket, all sorts of toys. Or, why not do what I did as a child: USE YOUR IMAGINATION! That’s way more fun anyways! When I was a kid, we didn’t have half of what my kids have today. We pretended we were characters from G.I. Joe and Voltron. We played doctor and school and house. We made up dance moves and had “concerts” on the picnic table in our backyard. We made-believe about everything. And it was the best. So, when my kids come at me and tell me they’re bored … ugh, it drives me insane!!
4) Homeschooling is no joke. Don’t misunderstand, we are not overburdened with work, the assignments aren’t overly challenging, and the teachers have been amazing. But I can see the strain this quarantine is putting on my daughter. She’s unfocused and unmotivated. She’s bored and unstimulated. She doesn’t want to engage or think, even when I’m creative and try to turn assignments into a game. Look, I’m not a teacher, nor do I want to be. I have no patience and I’m terrible at schooling. Plus, I’m already in over my head with this whole parenting thing. I have the absolute utmost respect for teachers, and parents who choose to home-school their kids. It just ain’t my thing.
But it’s not only that. I’m concerned that taking on the role of my daughter’s teacher—in addition to that of her mom—is only going to weaken our relationship further. We tend to butt heads a lot already and adding more fuel to the fire weighs on my mind and rachets up my anxiety to a whole new level. It’s hard enough dealing with my own mental load right now, never mind understanding and calming my daughter’s. I appreciate that’s part of my job as her momma, but, well, I can’t pour from an empty cup.
Phew. It feels good to get that off my chest.
Now I can breathe, breathe, breathe … just breathe.
OK, I’m done feeling sorry for myself. It’s the weekend—finally—and I’d really like to start it on a positive note. With wine. 😊
Until the next breakdown, my friends.