I have spent the last 48ish hours in an extremely lavish pity party. I held all the stitches of this home together for a solid 6 days. But if we're honest, I have held it together far longer if you count the cooking, coordinating, cleaning, and collaborating that keeps this old house afloat. Ryan is a rockstar dad who does way more than Average Joe. But because we are in a season of life where the kitchen sink is my office, I just plain do most of all the rest. The world owes me a few hours - plus some - of good old fashioned Why Is My Life Such Shit Camp.
All the same rules as last time he was gone applied (see here). But this time it was just soooooooo much harder. That said in my very best whine ever. The two littles and I had a supremely nasty stomach flu early in the week. Like people were shitting everywhere in this house. Sorry - but if you have kids, you are part of the privileged group that has crossed over into talking about poop without hesitation or remorse. You can even do so while eating say, rolos or chocolate pudding without flinching. If you're not in said group, yay you. Now go eat your dang pudding. Back to the shitting - it didn't hit me this way, but boy howdy those poor children. I think it actually scared them. Like they didn't know humans were capable of this level of excrement. So that's how our Minus Daddy week started, and I just never got back to full strength.
Ok, but we were talking about camp...
At WIMLSS Camp, I noticed that one friend met a real princess, another went to Vegas with her husband, another got a new scarf, another's children were well-behaved, another got their christmas baking done, and another has a sweet new baby. These are not true for me. These are things I wish were true for me.
At camp, I got the best massage of my entire life. Facebook me or come over if you want to know who from and I will give you her number. As long as you promise not to book her when I'm in the middle of camp and need her.
I also went to my favorite bent-and-dent store and stocked up on carbs. Old cookies in cool packaging? Get in my cart. Expired snickers 3 for a dollar? Done. Auntie Anne's pretzel mix? I'll take three and crawl into the shelf looking for more. I went there for gum. Because a pack of gum made it into one of the large cardboard boxes of $75 worth of carbs, we'll call that shopping trip a win. $75 at a bent-and-dent is like $900 at a normal store, by the way. $2500 at a Dean and Deluca.
Camp also allowed me to pout and wrap Christmas presents while Ryan put the kids to bed. They cried for me because I had put them to bed the last 17 years, wait 6 nights, and they missed their mama. I didn't feel even a teeny bit bad.
And last but very much not least, while at WIMLSS Camp, I ate a foot-long subway sandwich. Might seem like no biggie, but I haven't done that since I stopped looking like a blowfish about a year ago.
Now that its over and I'm again treating myself like a beloved mental patient - which yes, is what usually carries me through - I realize that last week really wasn't awful. But my frame of mind very much was. I have gotten myself into the rut of thinking that my children are horribly behaved and that there is no hope at all for them to be functional members of society, or really even elementary school. You know how everyone thinks their kids fight too much but really they are just being kids? Mine really do, I promise. I'm in a mental space right now where I am not finding joy in the truly joyful things because I'm hung up on the way the not joyful things tax me. I feel broken down by Eva's constant need for attention and her resistance to correction. Truly exhausted by it. I feel mad about the way the Buzz copies every word and gesture anyone makes. E.v.e.r.y. I resent that Sage McCage suddenly gets up at least twice a night and needs a hug and a kiss and a re-tucking-in.
Its true that my happy self would see these things as:
Yay for my strong, independent daughter. No one will ever push her around.
Yay for my observant son. Nothing will get past him.
Yay for my sweet sweet sweet daughter. She will forever be so easy to love.
Right now, though, grrrrrrrrrrr.
But Anne Lamott told me that the first thing is to name it. So I'm naming that this life is hard right now, especially parenting. But it is not shit. My kids are miracles. This life I get to do is in fact, a rockstar life, and I'm insanely lucky to be living it. My family deserves to have me Show Up. And so do I.
And then she said that if we want to feel loving, we have to do loving things. I think she meant for other people, but I loved myself up one side and down the other at WIMLSS Camp. And sure enough, I'm feeling a teensy bit more affectionate and patient with them than 48 hours ago. Baby steps.
So here's the goal for tomorrow: Laugh. Show affection. Give myself small treats - like San Pellegrino. Give the kids small treats - like a little more tv. Breathe instead of yell. Play on the floor with them. Dance. Say yes. Be generous
That's a lot of goals, but really it is just to do this: Reclaim the joy.
I can do it. We can do it. Are you tired and at a camp of your own? Join me. We've got this.