My adorable five year old asked for second breakfast today and I screamed. A long, loud, rip-my- throat-out scream. I was contrite in an instant, pulled him close, apologized profusely and fed him. I tried to busy myself so that I didn't take time to assess my sanity. It didn't work. I think I might be just one train stop shy of crazy town today.
Lately I have felt like that mother bird who works and works and works only to drop food into the mouths of her offspring. I've also felt about as necessary to the functioning of the universe as that bird. Not to mention feeling as drab and brown as she is.
It isn't that I feel like what I do here at home is unimportant. The thought of letting somebody else raise my little men (like in the form of daycare, not as in just chucking it all in a moving to New Zealand) makes me cringe. If I didn't think it was important then I'd find away to go back to work tomorrow. I had these kids. I'm going to raise them.
At some point each day I come to a place where my nerves are frazzled, the frequent bickering and wrestling and nagging threatening to destroy my grip on sanity. Thankfully, I usually get to that place about the time Plantboy gets home and he never questions the need to step in and help while the moment passes, or we cross that threshold just as it is time for them all to go to bed and I can recover for a few hours. Today that moment came at 9:30 a.m.
Yesterday morning I had a few friends over to discuss the book "Life of Pi" with. It was a lovely morning and much-needed for me. (Though several, recent outings have convinced me that having time away from the kids isn't a magic bullet either. The vitality it gives me doesn't seem to last more than a few hours.) We got to talking about depression and isolation in conjunction with the story. One sister said, "I can't imagine what it would be like to be so depressed that you couldn't get out of bed. How can you just drop out of your life?" I smiled and stared vacantly out of the window.
If it wasn't for fear of further disapproval in my sons' eyes, I don't think anything would have motivated me to leave the covers this morning.
Like Pi, I sometimes feel like I'm in an isolated life raft. Trying to tame a tiger. I'm sure that is a metaphor for something but I think I'm too tired to think it through. Hopefully like Pi, my faith will sustain me through this in-between place I have been in for some time now. I need to reconnect with God more carefully so that He can remind me that He knows even the needs of the sparrow.
Thanks for listening. Maybe cleaning the kitchen, again, will clear my head. Or maybe it will just reiterate the futility of fighting the chaos. Oh, dear . . . maybe I'll start by making the bed today o I don't crawl back inside of it. Or getting out of the bathrobe. And no reading of Feminist Mormon Housewives today. I think it might be toxic.