Adorable Terrorsits

I’m exhausted. Plain and simple, exhausted. I’m so tired I feel as though I could sleep for a week and still wake up feeling totally burnt out, cranky and on the verge of tears. The sad part is that I have no huge claim to this exhaustion; I haven’t just run a marathon, I haven’t just traveled the globe, I’m just a mom and a housewife. My days are spent doing everything for everyone else, even showering feels like work right now.

I know this sounds horrible, I know I sound totally pessimistic and well, like a whiny little bitch. I know that I need to just put on my big girl panties, deal with it and keep on trucking, but I wonder…do all new moms feel this way? Am I so totally chemically imbalanced? Is my post partum depression so bad that this isn’t normal? Or is it normal? Does every mom feel this way at one time or another?

Does anyone else not want to fall asleep because they know that within a few short hours they will be awoken by a crying child? Does anyone else get angry when they are awoken by a crying baby? I’m seriously asking… because I feel like the worst mom in the world.

I try to fill my daughters’ days with learning, reading, playing; I want to create an environment where exploration is celebrated. But as my 7 month old crawls around and forces me to get up once again to pull her away from trouble I get so very frustrated.

Yes motherhood is a lot of work, most days I wish I did have a job to go to, just to get a break, just to miss them, to escape the dishes, the laundry, the diapers for a few hours. I know a lot of my readers are probably thinking…HA! You think you have it bad! Or Stop complaining, at least you have a family and children. Don’t get me wrong I do feel blessed for my family, I do love them, I’m just spent. I just want to sleep, to take a bath by myself, to actually have time to shave my legs in the shower, to lie in my bed without one of three different people requiring something from me.

I guess I’m just selfish, somewhere between laundry and bedtime stories, I’ve lost myself.

I remember a time when I could look in the mirror and had time to pluck a stray eyebrow. I remember a time when the thought of going shopping wasn’t something that sent anxiety through my entire being. I remember a time when the phone rang I actually felt excited about answering it and having a wonderful uninterrupted conversation with a friend, but times have changed.

Now I don’t even look in the mirror, and when I do it’s followed by a feeling of loss as I evaluate my stretch marks and scars. I look at my tattoo that once represented my freedom and now can only be described as a bug that has been smeared on a windshield. (For anyone out there who hasn’t yet had children, even if your DR tells you that you can’t have kids, NEVER get a tattoo on your stomach!)

Most of all I remember a time when I smiled regularly, when I woke up excited about my day and the activities that I had planned, I remember going on vacation and not worrying about the one’s I left behind for the week. Now I wish I could go on vacation, but the thought of all the work that would have to be done in order to arrange childcare, dog care, house care, etc etc…well it’s not even worth it.

So what do I do, besides whine to my computer screen, praying someone will validate these feelings…begging “does ANYONE understand?”

I guess I do what I always do…I breathe, I force a smile, I pray….and I repeat, over and over and over, because sometimes that’s all I can do.

Now I would love to finish this but my baby has filled her diaper once again, I’m laughing at myself now because I’m actually excited about this, only a mom who has experienced a constipated baby will understand my joy at this moment in time.