Worn Out

I wrote this over the weekend, but only just got to finishing it up.  Fortunately I'm feeling much better today, though nothing notable has changed.  I figured it was still worth posting.

This is the kind of post I feel terrible writing, because I feel like it makes me sound ungrateful for the beautiful family that I have.  I feel like it will make you think I'm a bad mother.  

So let me say this first: I love my family, my children, so, so much.  More than anything.

But still, I am exhausted.

When The Bean was a wee baby whenever Jen or I got to that breaking point, where we felt like we just couldn't deal anymore, the other could take over.  I would play with The Bean while Jen showered.  She would take him for a walk while I slept.  It worked out pretty well.

We usually seemed to find the time to have discussions about what was and wasn't working.  About both how amazing our son was and how frustrated we could be by his behaviour.  About parenting and how we wanted to raise our children.  

These nights, we can't trade off.   I've got Sprout and Jen has The Bean.  And by the time both kids are asleep I feel like I barely have the energy to have a conversation, never mind a conversation about parenting philosophies.  Many nights all I want to do is melt into the couch, turn the television on and my brain off and be absorbed into someone else's story.

Sometimes when it's going on a hour of nursing/rocking/nursing Sprout to sleep, I envy Jen in the room beside us reading stories to The Bean, though the rational part of my brain knows that it's not easy for her either.  Nearly everything these days seems to be a negotiation with him.

I get jealous that Jen gets to go to work and talk to adults, have a lunch break that's actually a break , and can go to the washroom by herself and/or not worry that she'll wake someone up by flushing the toilet.  In these moments I overlook the fact that she is working eight hours a day to support us, on top parenting and partnering at home.  She deserves a kiss or a back rub, heck, probably both.  But it's hard to find the time to give her recognition and attention when I feel like I've been giving all day.

Even though I am worn out physically, mentally and often emotionally, I know I'm going to miss these days.

I have this photo that I took nearly six months ago.  It's the shadow me and Sprout cast on the blind in our bedroom as I was rocking her to sleep.  I would stare at that same shadow for hours every day.  Her funny little sideways mohawk would bounce as I rocked her.  She had to be upright, because her reflux meant she'd fuss when lying horizontally.  I took the photo because I knew it was one of those things I would likely forget, even though at the time that seemed like something that would never change. 

Sometimes I daydream about having an entire day to  myself.  A day where I might not ever get out of bed.  A day where I hold a complete conversation without being interrupted by a two and a half year old.  A day where I don't have to do dishes or laundry or straighten up the same toys at least four times.  A day where I don't have to think about feeding other people or getting them to sleep.  

But as much as I daydream, I know if I were to get that day my bones would ache with missing my children.

Every day has moments that I treasure.  Snuggles and hugs.  Sprout giggling at her brother's antics.  Then Bean coming in to give his little sister a kiss goodnight and asking to stay and read her a bedtime story.  Jen holding my hand when we're walking the kids to the park.  Sometimes I stop and think: THIS.  This is what I dreamed about.

I need remind myself how quickly these days are passing and how precious these moments are.