Momfession #57: Busy doing nothing

It’s been a while since I’ve written. I guess you could say I have been busy, although that seems like a lame excuse. Who ISN’T busy? Lately, though, I have been feeling especially unable to fit anything else into my life. I have a schedule that is beginning to drive me insane. Not only is it packed, but it is so predictable, and so ordinary, it’s maddening.

But instead of wallowing in self-pity, I thought I’d let you in on my daily life. Because if I’m feeling overwhelmed, there’ve got to be other moms that are feeling the same way. As you read, try not to feel jealous over the glamour of it all. And if you can relate, please comment. It will make me feel much better to know that you all have busy, boring lives too!

So without further ado, I present to you…

The Momfessional’s Daily Schedule

  • 6:20am- alarm goes off, I press snooze at least once.
  • 6:45-ish- finally drag myself to the shower. On the way, I not-so-quietly open up the door to our daughter’s room to start her wake up routine. She is not a morning person. My son has already been up for at least 30 minutes, watching some (hopefully appropriate) shows on Netflix
  • 7am- dry my hair while my daughter runs screaming into my room because she doesn’t want Daddy to change her, or look at her, or talk to her.
  • 7:10-7:20am- attempt to simultaneously dress myself and my daughter while my son storms around the house because he either: a) can’t find his Pokémon cards, or b) doesn’t want a bagel for breakfast, or c) can’t wear shorts in 10 degree weather. Then coax/prod/force my daughter to eat at least a few bites of something before we leave the house.
  • 7:30am- drop daughter off at daycare. We have perfected the goodbye and the entire dropoff now takes only four minutes. Unless one of her teachers starts chatting with me about her latest potty training regressions.
  • 7:45am- Run through the train station parking lot to catch the train, which has just arrived. I squeeze through the doors just as they are closing and flop myself into a seat.
  • 8:30am- Arrive at the office. Breathe. Have my first cup of coffee.
  • 8:30am-4:30pm- Work, rarely take lunch, sometimes fit in a call to G’s school, the doctor, or my husband (since morning conversations are pretty much impossible)
  • 4:50pm- Catch the train home. Always board at the last minute, usually sweaty and breathless.
  • 5:30pm- Arrive home, drop bag, immediately start making dinner, attempting to ignore the cat at my feet and the fact that I have to pee. Around the same time, my husband arrives with the kids. They burst through the door, my son asking if we can order pizza (no), my daughter announcing that she peed her pants. I secretly wish I could just pee my pants too.
  • 6:15pm- Dinner. One or both kids complain about one or more things on their plate. I ask my son to sit up straight and eat over his plate approximately 30 times. I unsuccessfully attempt trick my daughter into eating at least one vegetable. Any attempt at adult conversation is thwarted by the two jabbering/screaming/complaining children.
  • 6:50pm- Fight with my daughter to take a bath. Fight with her to brush her teeth. Fight with her to get out of the bath. You get the gist.
  • 7:30pm- Stories are read, kisses are given, dollies are tucked in to bed. My daughter screams and demands I stay for “five more minutes”. When I leave, she screams for anywhere from 5-20 minutes.
  • 8pm- Start bedtime routine for our son. Thankfully, my husband does this as I am just about to lose it and I still have to pee.
  • 8-9pm- Clean dishes, tidy house, do laundry, fill out permission slips, write in son’s agenda, make school lunch, feed the cat, run out to grocery store because we have no milk or bread, again. How is it possible that we use SO MUCH milk and bread?!
  • 9pm- Sit down. Sometimes do work while watching Netflix. Or watch trashy Real Housewives episodes. Or blog (as you know, this one rarely happens anymore).
  • 10:30pm- Start my own bedtime routine. I’m tired, but what makes me even more exhausted is thinking about doing it all over again tomorrow.
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Momfession #53: Control freak

Last night, while playing volleyball, I sprained my ankle. As soon as I landed (on a member of the opposing team’s foot, after a failed attempt to block a shot) I knew I was in trouble. The pain was so overwhelming I could do nothing but lay curled on the floor for a minute. It was the kind of pain that makes you want to throw up; anyone who has broken a limb or gone through labour knows exactly what I mean. My mind immediately started racing: what if it is broken? What if I have a cast? How will I get to work? Do I need crutches? How am I going to drop my daughter off at daycare? There’s no juice for breakfast…how am I going to go grocery shopping if I can’t walk? And on, and on.

My husband says I worry too much. That I should just relax and accept that sometimes, things just happen that I can’t control. And it is true. But when you have people depending on you, it is easier said than done. For one thing, I recently started a new job at a new company. When I say recently, I mean that today was my third day. And I have already had to take a sick day. I don’t think I have taken a sick day in over a year, and here I am, already taking time off. What must my new company think? I wonder. That I am a complete spaz? That I am one of those people who is always getting hurt? That I am a liability? Of course none of those things are true (although my spaziness is up for debate), and my new job and boss are awesome, but I still worry about the impression that this situation makes.

And then there’s the kids. Although they were really great today (K offered me her “comfy blanket” this morning and G helped me hobble around the house), I feel guilty about my state. I wasn’t able to get to the grocery store last night and they had no juice or milk at breakfast. I couldn’t carry K upstairs the way I normally do before bed. And I was extra irritable tonight with them as a result of my pain and discomfort. I felt like I failed them in the mom department today, although I am sure they didn’t notice one bit.

Maybe this is life’s way of telling me that I can’t always be the one in charge. That things will still be OK, even if I need to lean on other people for a change (literally and figuratively).That I can’t control everything, all of the time, and I need to accept that. And that worrying isn’t going to change any of that.

For me, and I think a lot of other moms, it is an extremely difficult challenge to overcome. We are used to being the ones in charge: running the household, booking the appointments, building our careers, nursing the boo-boos, setting the bedtime routines, and generally managing our lives and those of our family’s. So when I lose even a little bit of that control, I tend to panic. But in reality, any amount of control I think I may have over my life is a bit of a sham; there is really no way to control this great, crazy, unpredictable world that we live in. So why try? There are going to be sprained ankles and missed meetings, lost lunch bags and failed tests, natural disasters and financial issues, whether I like it or not. I guess I just need to put my feet up and accept the imperfection of it all.

So if you need me, I’ll be at home tomorrow, resting my ankle. I’ll be the one on the couch watching Netflix, wallowing in self-pity and cupcake crumbs.