Desperate Housewife

I am SO tired.

It’s amazing how easily three little curtain climbers can just suck the energy right out of a person.

I don’t even know where I’m going with this post. I just want to get something written because I might as well since Grant is gone (at class) and I have time to myself.

Time to myself.

It’s hardly worth it after a long day in the trenches alone with the kids and a night spent tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable enough to fool myself that I can sleep without his warm body next to me. This time to myself comes at a great cost. And I hardly have energy left to do anything with this time.

I’ve noticed that the first day is the hardest. He leaves in the morning, and an hour or so later, he texts me a few times. Then things go silent. No communication. The internet out there is terrible, and I’ve lost him again. No telling if I’ll hear from him again in a few hours or if he’ll contact me on his way home when he finally gets cell phone signal again.

It’s about Thursday afternoon when I usually get feeling desperate. My mom has either been out of town or dealing with problems of her own the last few times Grant has gone to class. I run through my mind a (rather) short list of adults I feel I can connect to if needed. It’s hard to explain, but Thursday afternoon is when I feel a very strong NEED to connect with another adult, almost just to reassure myself that it is possible. I usually fall back on my mom or my sister. I always feel a little iffy about what level of crazy I want to expose to anyone else (and yet, here I am blogging about it—Ha! Note to self: don’t blog while exhausted). It’s about this time that I’m kicking myself because if I would just call my friends for a random chat more often, it wouldn’t be so odd when I called them up randomly to chat when I hit that desperation point. But there I am, in desperation mode, and I can’t call anyone randomly because if they get any hint that I’m barely holding it together, if they ask one little, “Hey, are you ok?” I’m going to fall apart. And then I’ll get off the phone and just be embarrassed. Lonely and embarrassed.

Eleanor’s school <bless them> seems to continually plan days off when Grant is gone at his class. That means I can’t even count on our routine getting me through. No, I have to come up with ways to entertain and keep them busy to keep them from fighting all day long. And they still fight all day long.

I know you’re diagnosing me and prescribing me pills in your head as you read this, but just try to restrain yourself, ok? My good friend told me I’m not crazy; I have what’s called “stay-at-home-motherhood.” I believe she’s right. I have a pretty serious case of it, too. So please don’t judge me ‘cause sometimes a mother just has to spew.

I went to pick up Eleanor from school on Thursday, still not having had much connection with another adult that day and wondering what in the world I was going to do to get through the next couple days. When I pulled around and stopped in the line to pick up kids, I saw two of my friends, who I love dearly, standing outside their cars and chatting at the front of the line. I wanted to hop out of my still running car, leaving Phaedra and Curtis in the back, and run across the parking lot to them. I didn’t care whether I stood there listening to them talk or joined the conversation. One of them was pulled out of our ward because of a recent change to the ward boundaries, and I’ve been wanting to tell her how much I miss seeing her at church. But I didn’t leap from my idling vehicle for the following reasons:

1. Leaving 2 young kids in the back of a running car just so I could chat with friends across the parking lot in front of a bunch of school workers who are required to report stuff like that seems to me like a move that could get said beautiful children taken away from me.
2. Leaving 2 young kids in the back of my running car to sprint across the parking lot to my friends probably isn’t something I could pull off without showing the level of desperation I was feeling. I doubt I could hide it with a casual, “Hey. What’s up?”
3. Upon arriving near my friends, I might not be able to restrain myself from throwing my arms around them and hugging them like they were an oasis among miles and miles of desert.
4. Or crying. I might just get over there and start crying. And crying makes it VERY difficult to hide the crazy. It’s right there running down my face for all to see.
5. Plus, you know, I was in line. So if the line moved and I wasn’t in my running vehicle with my 2 kids (at least 1 of them would probably be screaming by that time), people would honk and be irritated.

Instead, I sat in my car and watched them. I didn’t read the book I had brought with me as I usually do while I wait to pull up in line. I just sat and watched, longing to be a part of that conversation, wondering what they were talking about. It didn’t take long before I started to cry. At first, I shook my head and thought, “pull it together woman!” But then I realized that it would feel so good to take a moment and just let it out. When else would I get that chance without kids climbing on me and asking me a ton of questions? I sure hope none of the other parents saw the crying lady in the van. When it was time to pull up and pick up Eleanor, I got myself under control, wiped my eyes and tried not to make lingering eye contact with anyone so they wouldn’t see how red and puffy my eyes were.

This is what Thursdays are like for me sometimes. They only come once a month, and they are in no way related to my menstrual cycle. I just get real lonely real fast.

I have a hard time calling on friends because they have families of their own to attend. Even play dates are overrated. I have tried and tried to get on board with play dates, but I just get stressed out when other people’s kids are at my house. I think, technically, I’m not really a “kid person.”

Back when I was a young single adult, I used to say that I would have at least one kid because it’s a commandment. After a while, I altered that to say that I would have at least two because only-children are warped (no offense). When my siblings started having kids and I was able to spend more time with them, I warmed up to children—not all children—just those specific children. I love my kids dearly, and I even love their friends. I think my tolerance for kids raises by age directly related to Eleanor and the ages I’ve already learned to handle. I guess what I’m saying is it just doesn’t come as easily to me as it seems to come to others. The Lord knew what He was doing when He put me in Primary callings early on at church. The more exposure I have to kids, the more I love them.

I just still have a hard time inviting them into my nest. This is my home. It isn’t particularly large. Our space is shared with the kids’ space, and the kids know what to leave alone. Visiting kids don’t know that . . .

Oh dear. I had to stop myself. That was really turning into a rant, and I don’t need to go there.

Today was better than yesterday. I formed a plan, didn’t try to do anything to spectacular, but I still tried to make it fun for the kids. I completely wore myself out because I was trying to keep busy to pass the time and avoid loneliness. I think it worked pretty well. Plus, Grant was able to text me a few times during the day. That’s always a comfort to know he’s still alive and maybe thinking of me.

I’m trying. I know I still need a lot of work, and I keep trying to improve as a mother, wife, friend, and every other role I play in this life. I’m certainly not perfect, but I’m trying to inch my way there.

Now I’m going to insert a picture of adorable kids to wipe your memories of all my raw (and somewhat tongue-in-cheek) emotions. You know that little red flashy thing they use on the Men In Black movies? Just gaze into these two adorable faces . . .

Curtis recently learned to climb the kitchen chairs. He’s so proud of himself, and he can finally reach all the toys Phaedra plays with at the table. Phae is going to have to revamp her playing style to allow for more sharing (or hide out in her room all day).