I have a nail in my tire. The front passenger side. Don't know where I picked it up, but it's glaring and obvious, it even has a green circle-ey thing around the head of the nail. So I'm riding around with a green circle nailed into my tire.
This morning I sent my son to school without his book report. Again. It was due Friday and he and I completed it and left it on the table where it remained as we departed for school Friday morning. This morning I did it again, left it right there waiting to be placed in a backpack and turned in. What is wrong with me?
This morning I also fed my kids bananas and Little Debbie cakes for breakfast. In the car. We were running late, no time even for cereal. I only had one granola bar, but I had three bananas and two Little Debbie cakes. And bottled water. I did make them eat the bananas first.
My baby slept nearly two hours past his wake up time on Sunday morning. Instead of relishing the extra sleep, I stressed about what could be going wrong to make him sleep so much. He's overdue for immunizations and could be contracting some dread disease. So when am I going to take off work and take him in for shots?
My big boy's birthday is tomorrow. I have cupcakes ready for his class, but I never called his teacher to tell her. I hope she lets them have the cupcakes. I attempted the call several times, only to be thwarted by some urgent thing or another. So the call never got completed. He's going to be eight. I haven't planned a big party with cute invitations and treat bags of junk for all his friends. I never can seem to pull that off. It's just going to be us and Chuck E Cheese. He really wants Chuck E Cheese and since there are no treat bags and friends for a party, Chuck E will have to do the job. I'm not going to think about the mom who gave out hand made halloween themed burp cloths to everyone at the daycare. But I bet she'd have treat bags of junk and 20 kids at the party.
I printed a newsletter at work. I went against my gut and my better judgement and chose the cheaper company to print it. And I hate how it looks. It's well written but looks terrible. Why didn't I listen to my instinct and go with the other company? I saved a hundred bucks but my newsletter looks crappy.
I have only one bottle of milk for the baby for tomorrow. I can't seem to figure out the right amount of milk and right pumping schedule to be able to keep extra milk on hand. I try to pump at night but for some reason my body refuses to let the milk go. And mostly I'm too tired.
Plus I have a nail in my tire. Did I tell you about that? I'm driving three kids around in a car with a nail in the tire.
This blog is horrible and terribly negative. You are probably alarmed at its tone. I like to think I'm an upbeat person, generally happy, with a positive outlook. Yet the preceding litany of condemnation is precisely the way I speak to myself. It's the playlist in my head. The devil's jukebox selections and he never seems to run out of quarters.
I have to wonder if my constant barrage of self inflicted condemnation has an effect on my mood. Ya THINK? But how do I stop? The bottom line is, I want to be better. I want to host cool, fun birthdays for my kids. I want to feed them nutritious breakfasts, hot ones, with time to digest before we lurch toward school. I want more milk than Kleinpeter Dairy, and I feel like if I fed my baby better (more milk?) maybe he would be... what? Bigger? fatter? healthier? He's healthy and happy, just like my other two are. See, I don't even know what I want. But I still can't let myself off the hook. I just said I want to be better, but the truth is, I have an unrealistic desire to be PERFECT.
Maybe every mom has it, maybe I'm one of the few, the proud, the insane enough to admit it. Or maybe I just have issues with perfectionism. I don't know and even this moment I resist the urge to resolve this post with a happy little ending, all tied in a bow. I don't know what to do, and I'm tired of wearing myself out. I desperately want to let it all go, but have no idea how to let it all go without... well, letting it all go, if you know what I mean.
Somebody pray for me. My joy is buried somewhere in this pile of thoughts and worries. Tomorrow's a new day, and will bring new mercies, I know. But tonight is looking like sack cloth and ashes.
And there's a nail in my tire.
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4 comments:
Aw Becky. You're just normal. I'm glad you didn't use any neat and tidy bows on this. Sometimes they are just hard to find.
And just to join you in being real, I don't think my kids brushed their teeth yesterday. I'm pretty sure that Ivan didn't change his underwear either. I'm not saying this is a good thing, it's just the way some days go.
Just remember this great Biblical truth I learned at a Baptist camp somewhere in Alabama..."The fruit of the Spirit's not a coconut..."
Girl, call me. You will instantly feel better about your life. Even though I did throw a party with treat bags and 20 kids, I am certainly failing in many areas. I will not admit them on the internet. I mean, really bad failing.
I love you.
You're not normal.
You're way better than normal.
You're certainly not alone. Last month I paid my mortgage twice and forgot to pay a credit card. I've left the flat iron plugged in all day and let dirty dishes with fish residue collect in my sink for two weeks. I've managed to run out of underwear and food and... I don't have kids or a husband to take care of, but I still fail. And I still hate that part of myself. You're not alone.
My totally awesome SIL - I think your kids are pretty freakin' amazing for ones who have been raised by someone who thinks she's failing at every turn. You're not. I talk to Kenzie all the time and believe me - that girl thinks her mom hung the moon. You do not achieve that with a now 13 year old girl without having done something right where it counts.
Everyone's dishes sit sometimes. Levi is eight - his neurons and exteroceptive senses are firing faster than yours and he forgot the book report too. Hey - they ate the bananas first didn't they? See they listened. This is a far more important fact in the Little Debbie debacle and that makes it a win. Kids on Super Nanny and World's Strictest Parents would have thrown the banana at their mother's head and downed the Debbies. Perspective.
Caleb is perfect, just the way he's supposed to be. Just like his sister and brother he's incredible, beautiful and amazing.
Speaking as one of those moms who has done the treat bags, handmade themed whosiwhatsits, baked and decorated the cakes, blah-blah-blah - it's a Wizard of Oz trick. Pay no attention to the woman behind the curtain. Pay no attention to the fact that she went without sleep for three days to finish all the projects she wanted to, or took her kid(s) to Subway for lunch and dinner on the same day to get more done. Never mind the fact that quite often the projects are done out of her desire and need to be perceived as perfect and flawless and capable and that she CAN actually do more than just be a mom. It's her palpable longing to find paths of creativity and expressiveness and occasionally on some sick level a competitive need to be the best.
Incidentally at Noah's 13th birthday - the huge sheet cake I made to feed a houseful of adults and children for him when he asked for a Neopolitan two-layer cake filled with Bavarian cream custard and then frosted to resemble an outdoor hunting scene with the Bone Collector logo. I had left the assembled cake with its initial base frosting in the center of the big counter in the kitchen while I ran to the meat market to buy 30lbs of ground beef for the cookout he'd requested.
My intention was to come home and finish the decorative part of the icing before all the guests arrived. When I got home the dog was sitting in the living room not greeting me which was weird. Her muzzle was covered in light blue and grass green icing. I ran to the front side of the cake to see that she had stretched just enough to eat the entire long length of one side of the cake. With about 28 guests scheduled to arrive in 30 minutes - I did the only disgusting thing I could think of to do - I cut off the whole front of that side of the cake and refrosted it. Now that's messed up Beck. I STILL feel guilty about that, but I was frazzled and at the end of my rope.
Would Martha Stewart serve her guests ABC-dog cake? I think not.
You're amazing, incredible, vivacious, audacious (a quality I think should be adored), infectious and doing a phenomenal job every single day.
Oh - and most everyone is driving around with something in their tire, they just don't realize it because they didn't notice it yet.
Regarding the quarters for the Devil's Juke - give the bag to Noah. He'll warp the hell out of them his pellet rifle and they won't fit anymore. ;)
We love you more than you know and in all honesty many days I compare myself to YOU and wish I were more like you. I can't be the only one.
BTW - note it's been a month since you published this I'm just now reading it. We're all screwed up. Isn't it great?
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