This was written two days ago. Feeling better now, but will share anyway...
Here's how things feel right now.
I wake up with a feeling of dread about everything I need to get done.
I get Mia to school, and then spend the next six hours wrestling with the many fears and stresses that surround my work. This wrestling takes up all my time, and means that I get precious little actual work done, which makes me hate myself. I end up walking to school to pick up Mia with all the things I didn't get done swirling in my head.
I pick her up and immediately a feeling of heaviness descends upon me. I love her and she is in a sweet and enthusiastic stage right now. But still, being with her is work. On the five minute walk home, she peppers me with requests. Can she have candy? Can we do an art project? Can we go to a museum? Can we go swimming? The heaviness increases.
Every day, I have to coach her through homework and piano practice, and every day she resists it and needs to be reminded of the same things over and over and over. I get frustrated and pissy, which isn't helping.
When we're finally done, we usually do some activity or another. Whatever we do, I'm usually feeling rushed and stressed about the many things that still need to get done that night, and the ever-increasing mess in the house. I cajole her into going with me to walk the dog. I make dinner. I sit down to eat for maybe 10, 15 minutes and get asked to get up (to get her milk, to get her dessert, to get more this or that or the other thing) maybe two or three times.
By the end of the night, I hear myself talking to her and cringe. I'm constantly ordering her from here to there, telling her we need to hurry up, complaining about her messes.
I don't want to be that mom who bitches and moans about the mess each activity will make. But at the same time, her messes are immense and never-ending, and she is horrible at cleaning them up. And I am out of time and energy and patience for cleaning them all up for her. Our house threatens, every minute, to tip from "cluttered" to "squalor."
And then, before I know it, it's time to coach her through shower and teeth brushing and stories, and deal with 10 or 12 more requests for random things and her myriad delaying tactics.
And then she is finally in bed, and I have a bunch of messes to clean up.
This isn't an accurate picture. For at least part of this time, Mr. SOC is here to help. Sometimes we do fun things, we laugh or dance or take a leisurely trip to the park or go out to eat.
But what remains constant is the requests, the messes, the intense coaching needed to get her through the most routine activities. And I don't know if it's my emotional state, my stress over my job bleeding into my family life, or just that kids are a pain in the ass, but it wears me down. And some days, like today, it defeats me.