Burnout: A Pep Talk

It’s good to be back! I have taken a bit of a blog hiatus due to technical difficulties, but thanks to my brother Cole, my laptop is back, and so is this blogger. I have some new ideas rummaging around in my head and I can’t wait to get them sorted, but until then I will be posting a couple of things written weeks, maybe months ago, that I did not post because I simply refuse to blog on our old desktop relic.

The following was written in a funk, and though I am in a better mood these days, I am going to put it up as reference on the days I do need it. And because there are times that we all need it.

Sometimes in the midst of days at home with my kids, I get a bit down. Maybe the day seems not just long, but endless. Maybe I can’t seem to accomplish one thing because there are two small sets of hands clinging to my legs. Maybe I am weary of battling a strong willed toddler day in and day out. Mostly, I believe I am just wistful for something to be easy in a time where everything in my life seems difficult.

Today is one of those days.

I am tired.

I feel like I need a break but there is not one in sight.

Such is the plight of so many other women and I must resign myself to the fact that there will not be a break any time soon. There might never be a break, at least not a substantial one. Money is tight. So very tight. The economy has tanked, as you well know. Chances of new employment for myself or better employment for my husband are slim.

So today, rather than wallowing indulgently in self pity as I am wont to do, I am choosing to be grateful for my lot. It’s a pretty good lot.

I am blessed to be the mother of that toddler sleeping in her bed at this moment, even if today she did throw a tantrum over where she is allowed to ride her tricycle. Even if that tantrum was outside. In the road. For twenty minutes.

And I am so thankful for that 12 month old crying in her crib right now because I dared put her down for a nap after rocking her for half an hour.

I am going to just take a moment to put things in perspective, if you don’t mind. Remind myself of my priorities. Give myself a pep talk. I have to do this occasionally.

We’ve all heard it before, but it bears repeating. Children are gifts from God. It is easy to forget this little nugget of wisdom when you are in the midst of raising the wily buggers, but it’s true. They may sometimes be snotty nosed, spoiled rotten, whiney gifts, but they are gifts nonetheless. They are gifts that not everyone gets to receive or to keep very long once given. And having glimpsed a teeny, tiny bit into the worlds of infertility and child loss, I cannot be too appreciative of these little people toddling around my house.

Oh, and about the house, I could use a little motivation on that front as well. Being a mom is not easy today, but it never was. EVER.

My husband knows that when he comes home, dinner may or may not be on the table, the house may or may not be clean, and his wife most certainly will not be wearing an apron, pearls and heels, a la June Cleaver.

Nope.

When my husband comes home, dinner might be in the works, or it might be somewhat planned, or it might be only a vague idea. The house is usually messy. The kids are usually cranky. And unless it is an errand or appointment day, I will be wearing a t-shirt, yoga pants and an exasperated expression. My face will be devoid of makeup and framed by seriously flat hair.

Strangely enough, Greg is actually okay with all of this. Though I think he prefers errand days and dinners in more tangible forms than vague ideas.

I will try to keep all of this in mind if I find myself moping around the house, feeling burned out. When I am up every two hours with the teething baby, I will remember that some women never get to rock their own babies in their arms no matter how hard they pray. When I find myself running in circles to pick up my house while the kidlets weave paths of destruction behind me, I will just give in and play along, because someday they won’t be little girls under my feet, messing up my house, and begging me to play with them. When I feel stressed because it is 5:00 and the house is trashed and I do not have a plan for dinner, I will relax, because my family likes hot dogs.

So no, I can’t take a vacation this year. Not even a mini one. But I can enjoy what I have and choose to not let it stress me out. I can give myself a break from my own judgment of what constitutes a “good mother.” I can remember that there are moms in unbearable situations; moms with sick children, moms in miserable marriages, moms living in poverty, moms of children now in heaven. The list goes on.

Despite the fact that I haven’t been on a vacation since our honeymoon six years ago, I will be just fine. I will appreciate that now is a good time to be a mother. I will be happy with the blessings in my life, regardless of sleep deprivation, clutter, and seriously out of control tantrums.

I will rest in the knowledge that my children are healthy, my husband is happy, and the only expectations I have to meet are my own.