...and deal with it."
I've heard that quote many times, but what are you supposed to do when you've already got your big girl panties on and you've BEEN dealing with it? Find a bigger pair? Ditch the panties and go for something a little more substantial? I personally would prefer to put on my "big girl steel-toed boots" and go kick the everloving snot out of something.
I was really hoping the wedding trip would be enough of a break that I could recharge and start fresh. But as fun as that was and despite the fact that Bogie and I slept for 12 hours after the reception, what little recharging I got has already been used up because I'm right back where I started at the edge of exhaustion. I know that my attitude needs adjusting, (it may have been suggested recently that I "find some happy pills") but it's very hard to believe there's an end in sight when, well, there's no end in sight!
It's hard with Bogie being out of commission, but that's really only a small part of it. D seems to be getting out of the teething zone and back into a normal routine (he's stayed asleep once I put him down for the past 5 nights, except for one quick pacifier run an hour ago) but now that he seems to be getting better ZaZa's temper and tantrums seem to be getting worse.
I always said that I wanted to stay home with my kids, but being laid off and not given the choice about staying home with them made it hard not to be resentful. It's times like these that I look back and wonder how the heck my mother did it. 3 kids under the age of 4, my dad on tour a lot, and no family close by.
If I'm going to survive this whole stay-at-home-mom thing, I need to get creative and fast! I cannot just stay in the house and sing songs and play games, I need human interaction and preferably from a human whose diaper I don't have to change! I know it will be easier when D gets a little older, then trips to the park and other places will go smoother once I no longer have to hold him constantly, but that seems so far away! Cabin Fever: I has it.
It's not just me, either. ZaZa has almost no tantrums, takes super long naps, and is overall more cheerful when we have a playdate with someone. A wonderful friend of ours (also a SAHM) watched her while I took Bogie to the doctor last Monday (D went with us too since we're pretty much attached at the hip...er, boob). ZaZa played all morning with another little girl whom she kept calling by the wrong name. Most of ZaZa's playdates have been with our friend who has 2 girls, P & K. ZaZa kept calling this little girl P, but it was all good because this little girl kept calling her Abby Cadabby (the pink fairy on Sesame Street with the pom-pom pigtails) probably because ZaZa's hair was in pigtails. They both got the right names eventually, but it was really cute to observe. They did lots of squealing and chasing each other, and once we got home she took a 3 hour nap. It was awesome. But I can't very well schedule playdates every day because I don't know that many SAHMs and the ones I do know I don't want to drive crazy.
Do I want to raise my own children, on my own schedule, by my own terms? Yes.
Do I want to hang out at home, all day every day, praying I don't resort to the TV as entertainment so that I can get a few blessed moments of peace? No.
I don't miss the stress of my job, but I do miss the challenge. Don't get me wrong, ZaZa and D are a challenge, but when I prevail at THIS job nobody cares or notices as long as the sippy cup is full and the diapers are dry. Probably the only people who will truly empathize is other moms, because I'm not looking for a thank you. I'm not raising my children to be thanked for it, I'm raising them because they're mine and that's the responsibility I promised to undertake when we decided to make them. I just didn't realize it would be this hard. Actually, raising children is not hard, it's actually quite simple (and repetitive, if I may say so). Raising children is just draining...emotionally, spiritually, physically. It's times like these that make me wonder how Jesus puts up with us. When I have to remind ZaZa for the 37th time in one morning not to spit or shove D's Jumparoo while he's in it, the thought flickers through my mind that this must be how God feels telling me to trust him every 10.41 seconds.
All of this to say that I have no answers, most of this is venting anyway, but I'm sure God will use it as some sort of object lesson in the near future because He's tricksy like that.
I have no interest in Happy Pills, (unless by "pills" you mean red & purple Skittles) but I really would like to know just how long those big girl panties are supposed to last while you're "dealing with it"? Because my pair wore out a while ago and I still have a long way to deal.
Bring on the steel-toed boots.