Around 3 p.m. today I sent a text to the husband and proceeded to list all of the things that were wrong with my day, our life and our children.
He's been away from Cabo since last Tuesday so I've been doing the full-time working mom/solo-parenting thing (HOW DO SINGLE PARENTS DO IT? HOW DID MY MOM do this? HOW DO SO MANY OF YOU DO THIS?) and I haven't slept well since Monday night. (I cannot sleep without that man.) Last night I finally fell asleep at 2:30 a.m. only to be awoken by crazy winds (PTSD, anyone?) and my four-year-old who was standing in the middle of the stairs up to our bedroom screaming my name.
After my rapid heart beat slowed I laid in bed listening to the palm trees roar and squeak against the glass of the window in the front of the house, trying to remember why in the world I moved to a tropical climate wherein we experienced a category 4 hurricane last September.
You can imagine how happily I awoke.
Ready to move from Cabo.
Ready for adult interaction.
Ready to tell my children to JUST GO AWAY.
At one point today I set the timer on my phone for 10 minutes and told both of my ladies that they could not speak to me or to one another for TEN MINUTES. "YOU MAY NOT SPEAK UNTIL THE TIMER GOES OFF."
The.constant: Mom. Mommy. Mom. Mom. Mommy? Mom. Mommy. Mom. Mama. Mom.
[breathe in. breathe out.]
The husband reminded me, via text, that one day I'd miss the constant chatter; the constant need for me.
And then I felt that familiar feeling: guilt.
I know that they're growing older.
I know that this is the "glory" time.
I know that this is the incredible time where they think I'm wonderful and beautiful.
I know that in a few short years I am going to be wishing they'd be standing in the middle of the stairwell crying for me.
I know that in a few short years I'm going to be begging them to say my name.
I know all of that.
Today, right as Vivi was refusing to please, please, please take a nap because Mommy is just.so.tired she looked over at me and said, "Mommy. I love you. If I could do it again, I would choose you to be my Mommy."
[heart broke wide open.]
But do you want to hear how I, an exhausted Mom, responded?
"I love you too, Vivi. Now close your eyes and go to sleep."
(She never napped.)
At the end of my rope?
But here I sit, in my favorite chair, with my doors wide open at 8:18 p.m. (no wind blowing) in a quiet, still home. Millie the dog is sitting on my left foot and all I can hear is the tick, tock of the clock that used to belong to my Mom... and now, I'm better.
But you guys, there are days like this.
There are days when it's all just too much. When having kids a year and a half apart seems like it was perhaps only slightly more sane than jumping off of a bridge.
There are days when my brain starts to add up all of the "injustices" of my life (#firstworldproblems) and I get swept away in the melodrama that I've created.
We all do this, right?
I was literally READY TO MOVE from Cabo today.
I was ready to sell my children. (To a low bidder.)
Now I'm better.
Blogging seems to show the best of our worlds, doesn't it? We chose to carefully position our best moments and share those on our blogs, on our instagram accounts and in our facebook world. I think maybe it's worth sharing that we aren't perfect.
I still haven't showered.
My hair is just as it was this morning when I woke up; sort of hanging off of the top of my head in a half bun/half pony tail thing.
I'm wearing the world's most hideous nude-colored comfortable bra.
My children ate donuts and grilled cheese today - however I did throw in at one point carrots and applesauce (no sugar added.)
I had a glass of wine -- my first in over a week -- at exactly 5:42 p.m.
And my go at giving organic deodorant with no anti-perspirant in it has failed miserably today.
Today was a dud.
Which means tomorrow will be better.
While the girls and I were cleaning out their toys and doing our every-few-months organization, I ran across this cake set.
Ah. There it was. The perspective I had been searching for all day.
This, my friends, this is the toy that best represents parenting:
It's missing a piece.
The end of a candle is chewed.
It's not perfect.
But it's sweet.
Parenting ain't easy.
Thank God for God.
Thank God for today.
Thank God there's a tomorrow.