Wastelands of motherhood

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Why schools have a special field trip shirt I have to keep track of is just well, insanity. I mean I know why they do it. It keeps the kids clumped up in the same shirt. Easier to keep track of unless of course, you can’t find your freaking field trip shirt.

Which of course was me at 9:00PM, the night before the field trip.

We’d been at a year-end baseball party all night. Anxious and ready for some decompression, I nursed the baby to sleep and plopped Dexter in front of the TV hoping  he’d rest a moment before I could get him ready for bed. The bedtime routine is my least favorite thing of the day. Normally I bathe the babies, lotion the babies, brush their teeth, pajamas, a song or book and bed. It’s a miracle if I get my face washed and my own teeth brushed. I hate doing bedtime because I am so burnt out from the day, it just feels like one more thing I *have* to do. So, this night? It was already insane before my dreaded bedtime routine had started. I threw up my hands and proclaimed no bath, no lotion, teeth and bed and that’s when Drew came in.

“Mom, I can’t find my field trip shirt”.

Great.

It did not go well. I walked into his room, floor covered in shirts I’d asked to be hung up all week. Freaking rainbow loom rubber bands and dirty clothes everywhere and that goddamn shirt was nowhere to be found. And then, the baby who I’d just got to sleep came walking in, sobbing. And so began the yelling and the ripping up of rooms and me, rage filled, wanting decompression and rest, yelling at my 8-year-old for not being more responsible.

It was a nightmare. A pot calling the kettle black nightmare. And I yelled and yelled and finally found the shirt, crumbled up under a shelf in the most disgusting laundry room known to man. I threw it in the washer, apologized for being insane and put my kids to bed. It was 10:15PM.

All I could muster in text was, “I am a terrible mother” and “I just want to run away”.

When the baby woke up and wouldn’t go back to sleep at 3am. I just cried and begged for a break.

Right now I am in the Wastelands of Motherhood.

I keep reading this blog posts with titles like “Dear mama, you’re not alone” and “To the mama who’s about to crack” and I nod my head and hit the share button, because I get it. All the 1000s of blog posts about finding your tribe and relying on your friends and I just feel so fucking alone in it. Because my wall keeps out my tribe and my brain keeps telling me I don’t deserve one. And I am so, so tired of feeling like that.

I’m tired of being tired of bedtime and being screaming mom because I know I will never get these years back but I think I’d enjoy these years a lot more if I wasn’t much more than a glorified nanny/taxi drive/world’s worst housekeeper. And I don’t even know how to answer anymore when someone asks me what they can do. Because I don’t know. All I know is I just want to feel human again. And I miss being something other than their mom and his wife. I used to be me. Now I am not. But if I was totally honest with myself, I don’t even know who I am.

Two more weeks of school. We’ve a very full June but I am hoping some of the freedom that comes with summer, will help calm things down. I am hoping that I can get back into a better routine of dishes and laundry and that I remember to clean the bathroom more often than I am now. It needs it and would probably keep my less crazy. I hope downsizing the stuff will help and that I can get outside more. Even though literally every walk ends up with crying… either Dexter or me. I hope that they don’t fight all summer or expect me to drive them all over God’s green earth. The thought of that makes me a little nutty, I will admit. I feel like if I could get out from behind the eight ball, I might not feel like I am gonna suffocate at any moment.

Do other mothers feel like this? Do all mothers feel like this? I wonder a lot. We’ve been to so many new houses lately. All decorated beautifully, landscaped and clean and my house looks like a frat house lives here part-time. How do they keep up when I can’t? I don’t have a job for God’s sake. I want perfect gray walls and a smiling family photo from the 19 countries we’ve visited in the last year. But I realize, that’s not our life. I think I am gonna need to take some time to mourn that.

Grass is greener they say. I get it. Because it does look very green. I know it’s not though and is often just grass colored paint. But these days, I’d really like to use a AC Moore coupon for my favorite shade of green.

It’s gonna get better. It will. All I can do is hope, pray and keep going forward.

 

 

Hi! I’m Gail, the voice behind Mimicking Motherhood. I started blogging after the birth of my 2nd child as a way to connect with far away family. Things have definitely changed since then. Now, mama to five, this is a place to help connect with other mothers, who feel like me.I love to make and write all while trying to figure out how to be myself in the world of anxiety and depression. Glad you stopped by.

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