It is amazing to me how much a kid can hurt your heart when he's not even IN THE HOUSE.
I was planning to write a happy blog this morning. M1 made dinner for the family last night, and I wanted to talk about that. I really did. And I will write about it at some point. Just not now. I've got thoughts echoing in my mind and they just won't shut up till I put them somewhere, and this is my venting spot.
M1 is at Grandma's today and tomorrow. He's doing schoolwork there so we don't get behind, but mostly he ISN'T HERE. She wanted him for the entire week, but it doesn't work logistically... and besides anything else, the kids are out on Friday anyway for the beginning of Spring Break. Why did she want to keep him? Because my stress level is roughly at the level of the Sears Tower (which I learned last night isn't called the Sears Tower any more, which I'm sure makes me behind the times, but seriously, what the heck is up with that??), and she could tell I needed a break.
I am exhausted. I tried to see the positive in yesterday's post, and I don't want this to sound like there isn't anything good that has happened lately, but I feel like I've been stuck in a bad country song for the past couple of weeks, maybe months. You know the kind of song I mean - the ones where it starts to sound like Job had it easy. My heart is being slowly squeezed apart by the very children who hold it in their hands.
I discovered more tic-tac-toe grids carved into M1's furniture/wallpaper this morning, and it just set me off. I feel like I help and I give and I do for him, and in return, my reward is to do even more the next day, starting from scratch. There is simply no progress. Give him an inch and he'll take a mile. And if I get two seconds of reprieve from him (which is rare), M2 wants to claim a spot in my attention, too. I don't want her to feel neglected, so I can't ignore her. She's my baby, too! So he gets my mind and my body, because I have to chase him down and constantly come up with new ideas to try to curb whatever new behavior he has invented, and she gets my soul, because that's all that's left. Without the kids, I am a shell, and with them, I'm slowly being broken into pieces.
I sometimes think I was never meant to be a mom. I certainly was never meant to be a helicopter/Tiger Mom, but I can't be the opposite, either, and walk away. These are my babies, parts of me, and I think that's why it kills me so much that I don't feel like I can help them. I just want to go for an entire day without destruction or fighting or feeling like I'm working a constant search-and-rescue mission rather than riding on a normal patrol.
I'd say this break would be good for me, except I still can't separate myself from the thoughts that follow me 24/7. Obviously I'm still thinking about the kids. I can't get away from it. They are my world. I envy Oz his ability to compartmentalize and let it all go while he's at work. Adult conversation is healthy. I should find some of that, perhaps, except I don't know what I'd talk about other than the kids!
To those of you out there who have never doubted your ability to parent your child(ren) and who feel like you were always meant to be a parent, I know you won't understand this post. That's okay. You don't have to. Just remember that not everyone has it as easy as you do. All I ask is that you don't judge me till you've walked a mile in my shoes.
To continue the bad country song cliche... this is my road. I have to walk it. I won't run away. But Lord... some sunshine would be nice.