I know I need to get my act together and put together a post about Judah’s birthday party, and I’m going to. I just thought I’d sit down and do a little venting/whining/sharing first.
I had a bit of a rough day today. Actually if I’m being completely honest, I’ve had a ‘rough day’ for pretty much the last few weeks straight. I don’t know exactly what’s going on that’s got me so tangled and wound up; I just haven’t been handling my life well lately.
Last week, Adaleine had a potty accident (which is frustrating in itself) and I ran upstairs to get her a clean pair of panties. When I walked into the closet that the kiddos share, I found clothes all over the place. Clean clothes, dirty clothes, clothes that should have been in storage bags that had been outgrown…I lost it. I swore and threw—that’s right, THREW—the chair out of the closet and into their bedroom. Landon came running upstairs to see what had happened. Of course the idea that his wife was throwing a royal hissy fit didn’t immediately occur to him. Once he got up there I proceeded to unload on him, shouting that I was sick and tired of picking up (curse curse curse) and that these stinking kids were driving me absolutely crazy! What can I say? Mom of the Year, right here.
Sadly, that hasn’t been my only incident lately. I’m muttering to myself when the kids aren’t around about being sick of their whining, I’m reaching the end of my daily supply of patience around lunchtime, and I’m snapping at Landon left and right.
This morning I made one of the afore-mentioned ‘quit your whining’ comments under my breath and he said to me, “Be nice.” Not what I needed, dude. My immediate response? “Don’t give me that self-righteous ‘Be nice’ crap.” And I walked out of the bedroom. Less than ten minutes later I yelled at him—in front of the kids—about how he seems to have such a problem remembering to take the salt back into the kitchen from the living room. What a loving and wonderful wife, am I right?
There are a couple of reasons I feel like I’m losing my cool. Or just completely lost it.
The first is that I’m worn out. I’m tired. I’m on duty 24 hours a day, 7 days a week and I’m exhausted. I have at least one child coming in to my bedroom every. single. night. I haven’t slept a solid seven hours in…how old are my kids? My husband has absolutely no set schedule, so I can’t have a night out with friends and I haven’t even gotten to have a date with my stinking husband since January.
The other highly probable reason for my absence of awesome is good old anger. I was thinking about this today as I put another load of laundry away in the crazy kid closet. I looked at the mess and chaos and just got mad. And I sat there and thought about it. I was angry. Ugly angry. I was angry at my children for making such a mess. I was angry at my husband for being gone all the time. Angry at myself for being lazy. Then the anger grew; it morphed and it included so much more. I brought up more anger. I was angry that I went to a baby shower last weekend. I was angry that neither my sisters nor my mom ever threw me a baby shower. Six years ago. I’ve been hanging onto that one for a while. I’m angry that my husband is such a better parent than I am. I’m angry that I’ve gained so much weight. I’m angry that I’m at home all the time. Angry that I don’t just DO what I want to do. I don’t write like I want to. I’m angry that we’re stupid with our money. Angry about not having good friends. Angry about other people having good friends when I don’t. Angry, angry, angry.
All of this anger festered in me for a few minutes while I sat there putting away little shirts and little socks. Little undies and little skirts. Little dresses and little PJs. I would like to say that I let it go and felt some resolution, but that would be a lie. After thinking about it for those few minutes I just rounded all that anger back up and shoved it back down. I’m apparently an anger hoarder. I know I need to deal with it all, but I’m not sure how and I’m not sure if I’m ready.
Then the knowledge and truth that I’ve been taught all my life starts to creep in on me. I’m holding onto dark. I’m holding onto bitter, to angry, to jealous, to ugly. I’m holding onto those things with one hand while desperately reaching for beauty with the other. I’ve been in a wonderful Life Group (like a Bible study group) with some beautiful women for a couple of months now. We’ve been connecting and finding truths together. I’ve been learning and reconnecting with my faith, and maybe this is why I’m having such a hard time.
I don’t know if I’m making sense, but I’ve always been told that if our enemy doesn’t see us as a threat, he’ll leave us alone. The past few weeks I’ve been waking up my heart again to all that my Lord wants to teach me. What if, in waking up my heart to God’s truths, I’ve awakened a fear in my enemy? What if I’m finally a threat to him and he’s doing what he can to send darkness my way and throw dirt in my eyes? I love this saying that I found a while ago:
This is another little something I saw a number of months ago on one of my favorite blogs, The Handmade Home:
Thank you for reading. Thank you for sticking with me through this little rant. I’m hoping as I always am that this post will find someone in the same place. That it will offer encouragement and let you know that you’re not dealing with this crazy life alone. Good night. : )