There are days I don’t want to leave the house.
It drives my kids crazy which in turn drives me more crazy. I don’t want to put on makeup. I don’t want to change out of my clothes and put on nice, decent, acceptable-in-public clothes (sweatpants are a little hot for the summer).
I justify my decision by promising myself I’ll sweep, mop, fold the laundry, iron, dust, put away the toys, organize my desk, scrub the bathtub and vacuum. I’ll involve the kids and make it fun. I won’t plonk them down in front of the TV for hours.
It’s too hot to go outside today I tell myself. The house needs looking after. It will be spotless by the end of the day.
Only I don’t do the things I say I’ll do and I do the things I say I won’t do.
I’m dragging my feet and have no energy. Clearly I didn’t sleep well last night. I went to bed too late, woke up too many times through out the night and got up too early.
I try a little introspection. This isn’t just physical tiredness. There’s some mental dragging of the feet going on here. What am I so tired of?
What I want to do is read a book. I want to watch a movie and go shopping. I want to make plans for dinner and drinks with friends and not have to notify baby sitters and pack and plan for days before hand. I want to try on several different outfits before a big event so I look my best. And feel my best. I want to be present and enjoy myself. Not worry if the baby is hungry or if the toddler is bored or feel guilty for being away from them. Or wonder if they are missing me as much as I am missing them.
Remember those days? I do. Those carefree days when all I had to do was get myself ready and out of the door. Only feed myself when I got hungry. Do whatever the hell I wanted to do like sleep in late & decide last minute to go out for brunch.
And you know what the sad thing is? I don’t even want to hang out with those old friends anymore. Nothing wrong with them. I’ve changed so damn much that I can’t relate to a thing they say.
Oh you had a bad day? You sat in traffic for an hour? Boo Hoo. You get to go to happy hour to make yourself feel better. I would LOVE to sit in traffic for an hour by myself. One hour in the car by my self are you kidding me? That’s a vacation. I’d crank up the music and sing my lungs out. No crying, no screaming, no complaints coming from the back seat. No tantrums being thrown as a you drive past a McDonald’s.
Your boss didn’t appreciate the project you’ve been working on all week? My project that I’ve been cooking for over an hour gets appreciated by being thrown on the floor. Does your boss give you bathroom breaks? Well STFU then because my two little tyrant bosses do not.
See? I’m not a very sympathizing friend. All the extra effort I have to take to meet up with old friends is not worth it. But I’m tired of not having that social outlet.
I’m told that I’ll miss these days. That one day when my kids are grown and gone I will trade in my friendships in a heartbeat just to have my kids be babies again.
I get a sudden hug from the toddler. He grabs my head and gives me a big kiss, then runs away. In case you didn’t know, toddler hugs are the best in the whole world because they go deep and hug your soul. He then knocks over a whole bottle of bubble solution over the kitchen floor.
Consider the floors washed. I’m taking them out to the park.
But I’m still not putting on makeup.