Just a warning, this is half rant half pitty party. Please don't mental note the rambling sentences or snicker at my poor use of punctuation. This is really to make myself feel a bit saner. So forgive me.
I've been at home now for just over three years and while I'm aware that I should be thankful for having this life with two beautiful, healthy children, for having an AMAZING partner who is always there to change the aquarium filter, and who incidentally, always has the best interest of our little family at heart and who has an entirely selfless skeleton; yes, despite these seeming idyllic conditions, this week I am not happy. Crazy, right?
Maybe this morning, it's the fact that Luca threw the piggy bank in the aquarium trapping Gill and dislodging the filter, clouding the water with fish feces (I just barfed a bit in my mouth) or maybe it's the fact that I don't want to run into anyone I know for fear of bawling my face off at the first dreaded question "how are you?" "Um, I'm not doing so well, do you have about an hour and a box of kleenex?". Maybe had the kids not nonchalantly refused to eat my meal - which Ia literally tortured myself to make- maybe I would want to fix all the broken playdough animals this morning, or heck, maybe I'd want to pack snacks and make a healthy lunch. But I don't. And I don't want to clean up my shredded National Geographics Shark book that i've had since I was 8, either. Oh and I don't want a three year old complaining that I'm not swinging him the right way at the park, nor do I want to hear the whispers of the other mothers. Nope I'm "happy" in my pyjamas ignoring the chaos around me, sipping my day-old french press coffee. And dinner tonight? Y'all can fend for yourselves, I've got a date.
Hang on, playdough sharkie needs an emergency fin reattachment.
Ok, so this post was going to be about the existential crises of the stay at home mother, but I have neither the skill nor the patience to puzzle the words together and write a coherent post. Let's recap here: I'm just about ready to hang up my housewife coat and switch it for
active-participant-of-society-that-gets-renumeration-for-services-rendered coat.
Buuuuuuuuut, it looks like I'll need to wash the "art" off the washer and dryer and fashion a Mr Jeremy Fisher (from beatrice potter) costume out of a tool belt/scarf before I can get to anything.
So on that wonderfully positive note, have a great weekend and remember that "these are the best days of your life and enjoy your children while they are little, soon they will be grown up and will be able to cook and clean for themselves?" Sounds horrible.
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I got woken up at 6:30 the other day by my naked daughter "Mama, I peed on the couch.."
"Oh?"
"On the couch. I wanna eat now. It sunny time. Get up."
Then I had coffee and projectile vomited.. Then Issa pushed Eva into the table and gave her a goosegg on her forehead that made her look like she'd grown a horn and took an hour to soothe the boo-boo. Then a rather regrettable trip to the farmer's market that made me question my choice in having children and I offered them to hang them up on the racks to a salesperson in a shop who saw me struggling for control and asked if he could help me with anything... because, he preferred if we left asap.
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