Sometimes I feel like I need a break from my life.   Sometime I would even like to have a break from being me.  Maybe try being someone more competent and confidant for a day.

Meeting the  needs of every person in my household drains me.

There is always a diaper to change,
a nose to wipe,
a child to read with,
a child who needs correction or discipline,
a meal to make,
long division to re-teach.....

This time of year our life slows down a bit, we hibernate a little more, and our calender is intentionally less full.
There is no yard work to do and no garden to tend.
My husband is home slightly longer in the morning and is home most every evening.
Our days are flexible and fairly relaxed.
I'm not sure why I'm feeling as overwhelmed as I do.  This is our "down season"...if there is such a thing.
The lull before the spring rush.
Maybe it's a bit of cabin fever.

I wake up with the fear that this will be the day it will all fall apart,
That everything we are working for will be ruined.
Lately, I feel like I'm straining, pulling and dragging a big wagon alone.
I can't shake that feeling that eventually this wagon will become stuck and I'll just sit there in the mud defeated.   We'll be swamped in a land of dysfunction forever.    If only we were free of the ruts that threaten to drag us off course.  

My blog is a whole big mix of everything.   A journal of me trying to figure out life as it is.
Sometimes that's funny, sometimes it's sad,  often it's random thoughts and dreams that make sense to only me.
It is always real.  Maybe to a fault.
Part of me would like to paint  an image and pretend we are a perfect family.
I could look like an expert on anything life throws my way.
I could blog about my immaculate house, my children learning Latin, my crafting skills, and the gourmet recipes I am cooking.  I could capture it all with my photographic prowess.
I would appear to juggle it all with style and swagger.
Sometimes I want to be her.

Maybe to some I come across that way.
Maybe I come across as a lunatic.
I don't know how me or my candid life is perceived ...but I'm just me.

One thing I despise in life is phoniness (in case you haven't noticed by my many rants about it).  I have personally known too many people and families who appeared to have it all together but were tragically broken underneath the image.   Eventually it all comes crashing down around them as they desperately try to hold up a smoke screen to hide the carnage.

No, I don't share everything that is going on in my life.   I use discretion but I am honest in what I write.

My toilets are dirty.  There are dishes in my sink.  I have no idea what I am going to feed my tribe for lunch.  Chances are one of them will refuse to eat it anyway.  My bible is laying on my book shelf untouched for days on end.   I worry that my kids aren't learning what they need to learn.  I fear that I will fail and my own selfishness or laziness will ruin them.  I am prone to forget how blessed I am.

This morning my attempt to ask for help was reduced to yelling at my kids and disrespecting my husband.
I'm that cool.

The truth is I'm not an expert on anything.   I am mucking through doing the best I can with what I have, and with who I am.   I live in an ADD filled household.  It is an exhausting, unpredictable, emotional, and extreme place to be.    Sometimes we thrive and sometimes we barely survive.  I think monotony is wreaking havoc at the moment.

I don't have life, parenting, marriage, or anything figured out and I don't pretend that I do.
I have learned a few things along the way and if my sharing those things helps someone else keep moving forward than I am thankful for that.  I give God the glory.  Maybe my shortcomings will also resonate with someone and we can keep on trudging through together.

I'm just a broken, chipped vessel that wants to be filled and poured out.
Too often I pour out but forget to be re-filled.
Then I am just empty.
I fill myself with things that don't satisfy, and then get grumpy when people want more from me than I have to give.

I had really planned on doing a cute or funny post next.   After a few heavier posts I figured it was time to keep it balanced with some fun and fluff.   This isn't that post.  Sorry.

Next time.
Or maybe you'll just get pictures of baskets full of laundry and a toy strewn living room....or maybe of  4 year old who refuses to eat every meal he is served (actually pictures of Silas gagging and storing  food in his cheeks instead of swallowing it might be entertaining...when you're not the one who made the meal.)  ;)


Denise said...

I loved the realness of this post. I can relate to rejected meals, and certainly to dirty dishes and toilets!

It's funny, when I saw the pictures of your kids hanging from the rafters (laughed so hard!), I subconsciously noticed your beautiful, shiny floors and decided that you were one of those "perfect" blogging families! I hadn't even realized that I'd had those thoughts until I read this post.

All this to say that I really enjoy your blog and your honesty...

Christina Lang said...

I am a mama to six, 8 years and under. 4 bio sons and two we are in process of adopting from foster care. I LOVE your post. I too, am an honest blogger. I struggle with the pressure of looking like I have it all together. Thank you for your honesty.

Judy Deaton said...

My toilets are dirty. There are dishes in my sink. I have no idea what I am going to feed my tribe for lunch. Chances are one of them will refuse to eat it anyway. My bible is laying on my book shelf untouched for days on end. I worry that my kids aren't learning what they need to learn. I fear that I will fail and my own selfishness or laziness will ruin them. I am prone to forget how blessed I am.

This paragraph made me seriously want to meet you for coffee(or your beverage of choice) and a play date! SO refreshing in this world of .....canned 50 quart of green beans today and on an on about the things accomplished. Some days I just hope we all end up fed and alive. I vow to be more honest on my own blog for the sake of those few(it seems) struggling along imperfectly like me.