I never knew that Hell on Earth is a cold, icy, arctic tundra. January in upstate is a barren, lonely place. It makes me feel insane. Living here is driving me crazy. Living here is testing every patient fiber in my body. My days consist of dragging myself out of bed in the dark, driving to and from work in the snow and sleet, sweating in my boots and never feeling the teeniest bit of sunshine on my shoulders. I have determined that, like the big, fat, white polar bear I feel and look like, I should just go plop myself on an ice chunk and set sail.
Yes, I'm grumpy. Living here makes the grind dig a hole into my soul. I imagine I've felt this way ever since I moved here but having kids, and I'd think being a caregiver to anyone, makes the winter workload a million times harder. For example, I don't want to wash my own laundry and I certainly don't want to wash the 8 other loads of clothes that belong to the rest of my family. Did I mention I'd rather run naked in a snowstorm than fold all of the laundry and put it away? (Thank goodness those full baskets make wonderful push toys for Charlotte.)
Another example: I don't want to put on a big, puffy coat and clunky mittens and then stuff myself into the car. Surprise, neither of my kids cares to bundle up and they kick, arch their backs and hit me while I pull their body parts into their outerwear. Oh, and the one that can walk refuses to pick up her own feet to walk in the snow once she is dressed. So we carry them both to the car.
When we get out of work, and it's dark, and we arrive home, I just want to put on my jammies, eat a bagel and some candy and drink and glass of wine while watching Wheel of Fortune but noooo, this is not setting a good example for the kiddos. So I try not to think about how the pants that felt tight, but doable, in the morning now feel like they are cutting a deep line across my belly as I make brown rice, green beans and salmon. And drink water.
And finally, I don't want to get sick. I'd really rather not vomit, poop, sneeze or cough uncontrollably. It's bad being sick. It's way worse taking care of other sick people while you are sick though. We have been ill off and on since before Christmas and a whole lot of germs have cycled and recycled through the family. We are downright toxic. It feels like not a week has gone by that I haven't missed a day of work, been puked on or spent quality time with the pediatrics staff. We are at the point that we are too tired to fight off the germs. The girls are exhausted and so am I.
People are afraid to be near us. They should be. Nobody wants to hear about what is happening at our house. I don't blame them. I don't go into detail. I just say we are going to peace out again and folks won't see us for a while. Bad things are happening at our house. Most don't ask questions but almost all say, "Ok, get some rest."
Dude. Do. You. Know. Me? Get some rest? I haven't slept more than four consecutive hours in about 260 nights. My baby doesn't nap and she thinks I'm her all-you-can-eat buffet. My preschooler outgrew naps last summer and thinks I'm her personal maid. I've missed so much work I race through my days when I am there and then shut the door of the home office to muffle the screams while I attempt to make phone calls and respond to emails. All I hear is baby cries and this stream of commands like the Lamb Chop Song That Doesn't End on repeat.
"Mommy- get me a cheese stick!"
"Mommy-I have to puke!"
"Mommy- I want a bandaid."
"Mommy- I don't want the bandaid- take it off!"
"Mommy- I'm thirsty. I'm hungry."
"Mommy- put my hair in a pony tail. Now!"
And that laundry. It's competing with the dishes to be the biggest stack of dirty, nastiness in the house. Or maybe that award belongs to me, after 3 days of not showering.
So, please forgive me if next time you talk to me I am non-responsive. I am just trying to get some rest by sleeping with my eyes open.
Yes, I'm grumpy. Living here makes the grind dig a hole into my soul. I imagine I've felt this way ever since I moved here but having kids, and I'd think being a caregiver to anyone, makes the winter workload a million times harder. For example, I don't want to wash my own laundry and I certainly don't want to wash the 8 other loads of clothes that belong to the rest of my family. Did I mention I'd rather run naked in a snowstorm than fold all of the laundry and put it away? (Thank goodness those full baskets make wonderful push toys for Charlotte.)
Another example: I don't want to put on a big, puffy coat and clunky mittens and then stuff myself into the car. Surprise, neither of my kids cares to bundle up and they kick, arch their backs and hit me while I pull their body parts into their outerwear. Oh, and the one that can walk refuses to pick up her own feet to walk in the snow once she is dressed. So we carry them both to the car.
When we get out of work, and it's dark, and we arrive home, I just want to put on my jammies, eat a bagel and some candy and drink and glass of wine while watching Wheel of Fortune but noooo, this is not setting a good example for the kiddos. So I try not to think about how the pants that felt tight, but doable, in the morning now feel like they are cutting a deep line across my belly as I make brown rice, green beans and salmon. And drink water.
And finally, I don't want to get sick. I'd really rather not vomit, poop, sneeze or cough uncontrollably. It's bad being sick. It's way worse taking care of other sick people while you are sick though. We have been ill off and on since before Christmas and a whole lot of germs have cycled and recycled through the family. We are downright toxic. It feels like not a week has gone by that I haven't missed a day of work, been puked on or spent quality time with the pediatrics staff. We are at the point that we are too tired to fight off the germs. The girls are exhausted and so am I.
People are afraid to be near us. They should be. Nobody wants to hear about what is happening at our house. I don't blame them. I don't go into detail. I just say we are going to peace out again and folks won't see us for a while. Bad things are happening at our house. Most don't ask questions but almost all say, "Ok, get some rest."
Dude. Do. You. Know. Me? Get some rest? I haven't slept more than four consecutive hours in about 260 nights. My baby doesn't nap and she thinks I'm her all-you-can-eat buffet. My preschooler outgrew naps last summer and thinks I'm her personal maid. I've missed so much work I race through my days when I am there and then shut the door of the home office to muffle the screams while I attempt to make phone calls and respond to emails. All I hear is baby cries and this stream of commands like the Lamb Chop Song That Doesn't End on repeat.
"Mommy- get me a cheese stick!"
"Mommy-I have to puke!"
"Mommy- I want a bandaid."
"Mommy- I don't want the bandaid- take it off!"
"Mommy- I'm thirsty. I'm hungry."
"Mommy- put my hair in a pony tail. Now!"
And that laundry. It's competing with the dishes to be the biggest stack of dirty, nastiness in the house. Or maybe that award belongs to me, after 3 days of not showering.
So, please forgive me if next time you talk to me I am non-responsive. I am just trying to get some rest by sleeping with my eyes open.
Comments
Can't wait to see you soon in Boston. Hopefully we can have some girl time. Sounds like you need it! But also sounds like you are doing a great job. Hang in there! Summer will be here before you know it (I'm selfishly saying that to remind myself as much as to remind you).
XOXO