2012 Goals — Week 4

I am frustrated this week.

I feel squished by life…the goals ballooning out grotesquely at the ends. I’m ready to pop.

One of my sacrifices these days is minimal time to do “me” things. My goals are all “me” things…and reasonably considered. I know the boys nap 1 hour a day. I know on Mondays and Wednesdays I get 3 hours while they are in school, and 2 on Tuesdays.  I also know that weekends are spotty in terms of “me” time. But naps are no longer a guarantee, so I can pretty faithfully rely on the 8 hours they are in school. I need those.

Those hours go quickly, especially if we stay at school 5-10 minutes at drop off, or if we get a call that J. pooped his pants, or if I want to shower.

This week, my hours slipped by. Monday was all my blood testing. Tuesday we met with the child psychologist. Wednesday we got a call that J. slipped on some black ice and hit his head (he’s fine.)  There was grocery shopping. I may have taken 5 minutes to shave my armpits and legs (I’m fine.)

So little got accomplished.

Usually that’s ok. I know this is not a situation where if I don’t get to everything every time, I drop it.  I’m not like that. Brush myself off and start. But when days get like yesterday and today…I can’t think. I can’t think. I can’t think. It’s not that I won’t or don’t want to. I can’t. I’m not permitted. There is a constant invasion of my quiet place, that place in my heart and soul and gut and brain.

I try to sneak a paragraph or a sentence or a fragment in when I can. I hate that…it’s disjointed. The point of my goals is to spend some time going inward, quietly reflecting and moving forward.  Stay in Janus mode.

Instead it’s: Change channel fix socks wipe crap get snacks get lunch wipe spill feed dog read story mommy it’s broke, not working i need help he’s not sharing. Can i help you fold laundry? I need I need I need a hug, a kiss, I have an ouchie, mama look what I did, where I can climb, how fast I run.  Mama stop cleaning and play. Mama. Mama. Mama. Mama I don’t want to nap. Mama I pooped my pants. Mama it hurts. Mama I need you.  Mama I love you. Mama I need.

Mama do. Mama don’t think.

I was looking forward to their swim class, if only to get 30 minutes of watching them play and having a thought and centering myself.

Today, the mom of a new kid in the class sat next to me and talked. For 30 minutes. Talked. And wanted responses. I wanted to cry.  I wanted my thoughts. I wanted to create an inner space for a few minutes. Then I hated myself for feeling that way.

And my blood boiled when her kid ran up to me, too, and talked. And talked. And talked.

Of course this afternoon there were no naps and toys broke and feelings were hurt and cuddles were needed.

I can’t wake up earlier than I do now. I simply can’t. They are up at 5:30. If I’m up at 5, they’ll hear and join me. I can’t work well at night after they go down. I’m toast.

So I continue to seek out moments of silence. Places of peace. Scenes of serenity.

 

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