Ever see that used to be sorta pretty woman walking through a store at 6somethingPM, obviously still in her sort of decent if you don't look close enough work clothes, dragging two squabbling and bedraggled children along behind her, all the while looking like she could lay on the dirty floor and go to sleep? Well, if you do, please be sure to say hi. Yes, to me. I'm friendly, most of the time anyway.
There have been a zillion words written about the balance of work and mothering, so I'm pretty sure nothing I can come up with will be all that original, but y'all, sometimes it is just so damn hard. I know being a stay at home mom has its share of challenges too, but this is my blog, and I feel like doing some serious whining about being a working out of the home mom. The never ending to-do list never ends for anyone, but I swear, having an extra seven hours a day to work on it seems like it sure would help.
Currently there is the endless housework, three dentist appointments, two dermatology appointments, two vet visits, purchasing softball cleats, play dates, dry cleaning, grocery shopping, softball practice, pharmacy pick up, pediatrician, dinner to make and bills to pay, just to get us started. Not to mention actually parenting and connecting with the kids, helping them with homework, signing all the different papers, project checklists, writing endless checks, chasing them through their bedtime routines and preparing for the next day. And somehow there is also supposed to be an hour a day spent on fitness, some "me" time and "romantic time" with my husband. All in a measly 24 hours which is also supposed to include 8-10 hours of sleep and 8 hours of work.
I. Cannot. Do. It. I just...can't.
The constant juggling makes me insane. So much just doesn't get done, or gets put off because oh, I don't know, I've already missed work for half a day this week already doing something else and that's probably enough for now. And for someone whose standards are pretty high, this does not happy times make. What happens when I can't do something well is that I will not do it at all. Right now I'm sitting in my plaid chair, writing this post and totally ignoring the fact that there are piles of laundry everywhere, that my kitchen is rocking a mystery odor and that Lawton and the kids will be home in
I know lots of people deal with this challenge and much worse, so I'm not saying I'm special, but in the words of a close friend, sometimes "I just want to ride a bicycle around all day. You know, the old cute one with a basket on the front holding a baguette." Don't even pretend you couldn't instantly relate. I know exactly what she means. Cruising along, looking adorable, not a care in the world other than deciding where to park your firm and perky butt to enjoy your fresh baked bread that wouldn't dream of going straight to your hips. Choosing the best scenic vista would be your only worry, and it wouldn't hang around long enough to add to those lines between your eyebrows.
What really scares me is that the women who I think have it somewhat together say the same thing. I look at them and think that they must be giants of organization, energy, patience and stamina, and then they tell me they feel the same way. Which I cannot decide if I find encouraging or discouraging. Sometimes it just seems like such a losing battle and in the throws of my worst pity parties I wonder how long it takes before you just don't care anymore.
It's not always like this, and there are tons of good things, good times, and loving/supportive people in my life. Which is great, because even though I have a blue Trek complete with basket, it's not doing anything other than sitting in my garage at the moment and there is not a baguette in sight.
Okay, enough whining. Back to the list before it gets any longer...