this post is all over the place. i would apologize, but really i'm just proud of myself for posting, so i won't.
The past two weeks, I have felt like a glorified cattle prodder and taxicab. We have rushed from one thing to another to another, and I can't remember the last time we were at home that my kids were awake that we weren't eating (this might be slightly exaggerated, because my memory is horrible- but suffice it to say, we've been busy). The sad thing is, I don't even know exactly what we've been doing. But somehow swim lessons 3x a week and the normal grocery shopping and Target trips have been combined with errands and attempts to socialize to become 3 very burnt out and grumpy girls in this house.
It's taking more and more work to get the girls out of the house. "But mama, I'm playing." And then when we come home and I need to cook dinner and need them to play "mama, I want you to hug me." Hugs are good, but at the end of a day where I barely sat down, I need my body to belong to me so that I can cook something.
So today? We're not going anywhere. We're not getting out of pajamas. We're cleaning the playroom so that we can walk in there again and we're going to play. And chill. And probably watch too much TV. I struggle with days like this. I try to pick one day a week that we don't go anywhere and while that sounds relaxing and wonderful, it actually stresses me out. Jade and Piper don't play very well together if they're not supervised. My days spent at home are spent breaking up fights, kissing boo boos from being pushed and bit, trying to find activities to keep them both busy and wanting to curl up into a ball and hide from my children. But I'm actually excited for today. We all need this. The girls are tired. I'm tired. And sometimes you just need to wear PJs.
Being excited for a day at home has me praying and searching and asking God if I'm doing too much. I feel like I shouldn't be this burnt out. There are constantly 5,000 things running through my mind. If I sit on the couch during nap time, I think about all the things I should be doing and feel incredibly guilty, making my supposed relaxing time anything but.
The floors need to be mopped.
The bathroom has dirty clothes all over the floor.
There's a load of clothes in the dryer that need to be folded.
The couch is covered in dog hair.
I need to move the highchair to the attic.
I really should walk the dogs more.
I need to clean the window on the back door.
Do we have enough money to buy flowers? We need flowers. Ours died.
Clutter is piling in the kitchen again.
Why haven't I hung curtains? This looks like a frat house.
I need to get rid of some toys. Too many toys.
I need to take Jade to the dentist.
Where is Piper's birthday party going to be?
Ok I'm done. But I could go on all day. My brain never stops. At some point, I make a point to turn it off, but generally I just go to bed then. So am I striving for too much? Do I need to lower my housecleaning standards, again? Do I need to give up on ever owning a home that's nicely decorated since my talents seem to lie elsewhere (don't ask me where my talents are, I just know they don't involve decorating). Or do I just need to rely on Him more fully. Let things slide sometimes and reign them in at other times.
So I stop. And breathe. And tell myself this is only a season. And play another round of Candy Land on my floor covered in dog hair and remind myself Candy Land is more important. One day at a time. I pray for guidance with the little things. The day to day. God cares about everything, but He doesn't want me to do everything. So I set boundaries. I protect our "stay at home day" fiercely. I remind myself that I am only one person.
One day last week, this was my facebook status:
I really do try not to complain much on here. I am blessed and I know it. But this morning, friends, I could use some prayers. I feel overwhelmed, ill-equipped and exhausted.
Honestly? Lately, that's how I've felt most days. Short on patience. Feeling like a failure. Guilty. Overwhelmed. The list goes on.
I really don't know when it all started. What I do know is that when I started to recognize it, instead of hitting it head on like I needed to, I hid. Hid from myself. Hid my problems from my friends.
When I needed to write the most, I went quiet. Avoided my quiet time. Started dealing with jealousy. And pride. And just went downhill.
I'm not "better" right now. But I'm done avoiding. Done acting like I'm ok when I'm not. Done feeling guilty for parts of myself I have no control over. Done thinking that my kids would be better off with someone else. Done acting defeated instead of fighting back.
I'm not an idiot, I know this isn't the last time I'll deal with this. It seems to be something I'm gonna be dealing with for a long time. But I can make more of an effort to take care of myself and not curl into a ball the second I start to feel depressed again. I can stop relying on myself for things I was never intended to do, and instead rely on the One who loves to carry me through these times.
And this is simply me putting this out there so I can't go back on my word immediately...
















