It was a simple enough question.
“What are you eating?”
I was sitting on the stairs to the bonus room. And I was eating Muddy Buddies Chex Mix.
“AAAARRRGHHHH!!! Seriously?! Can I not just BE ALONE for 10 seconds without someone asking me something?!”
My poor husband. (Let me take a moment right here and publicly say, I’m sorry about that, honey. Nothing personal. And I’m also sorry that I didn’t save you any Chex Mix. Kisses!)
Y’all. Let me get real for a minute here.
The summer is starting to wear me out. It started out great. It always does.
We were sleeping in and we were swimming in the pool and we were eating ice cream every day. We were putting together jigsaw puzzles and slicing up watermelons every morning to nibble on throughout the day. We were happy and carefree and loving it.
But…quite honestly, I think we’re sick of each other.
All day. Every day. The bickering, the whining, the incessant noise.
Oh the noise, noise, NOISE, NOISE! Yes, yes friends. Just call me the Grinch.
I feel like I am being pecked to death by chickens. And I cannot escape it. All I really want to do is lie down or sit or stand or heck…I’d even hang by my toenails from the ceiling fan if I thought that I’d be enjoying just a little bit of silence for a moment.
I read an article once that said, “Stop telling us that you love your kids”…or something close to that. Basically, the point was…we don’t have to preface our statements about how we need a little breather from our kids by saying “I love my kids, but….”
This is the part where I DON’T tell you how much I love my kids, then.
And yes, yes, YES…I DID make the conscious choice to be a stay at home mother. But let’s get real, no one QUITE knows what we’re signing up for when we decide to take on that gig. Am I right?
In all seriousness, it HAS been great to be at home, but when you are the one always with the kids for long, long hours and there is this constant noise and you’re always having to share whatever it is you’re eating that looks somewhat edible and when you’re cleaning up messes that I’m pretty sure chimpanzees hopped up on sugar and caffeine wouldn’t even make, well it can wear a person down.
So, after I snapped at my husband for interrupting my Chex Mix snack break, I got up and decided to go… Nowhere.
There was absolutely NO. PLACE. in my house that I could go where I would not hear my kids or risk them banging on the door and asking me if they can eat six Oreos and an ice cream sandwich at 7:30 p.m.
We have a Jack and Jill type bathroom between the master and the oldest child’s room and an architectural layout that creates a massive circular loop throughout the house that allows them access to me at all times.
It is so NOT divine.
And then I thought, “Well, I’ll just go somewhere.” But I wasn’t really keen on driving anywhere, because…where was I going to go? Going shopping or even to the grocery store when I’m feeling the need for space just results in me doing one of two things: wandering aimlessly around the store and wasting my time and just getting more and more tired and irritated all the while knowing I’m still going to go back to a house full of loud and messy…OR I end up impulse buying where I think thoughts like. “I really DO need more coffee cups! And this one has OWLS on it! It’s super cute and fall is coming and aren’t owls sort of fall-ish and maybe I’ll create an owl theme in my kitchen. Yes! This owl mug is a super wise purchase!”
Really all I want to do is just lie down somewhere in the silent anyway. And I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but there is ALWAYS a kid throwing a fit two aisles over from you no matter what store you go to. Thinking you’re hitting up Target for some peace and quiet is about like thinking that you can go to the zoo and not smell elephant poop.
In the end, I wound up frantically searching for head phones so that I could put Frank Sinatra on and not hear the children while I typed up this blog post. And then…I felt better. As Frank would say, “I did it MY WAY!”
Sometimes…fellow mommies, you just need to take a breather. You just need to press the pause button and fill up your own tank and enjoy something that’s just yours. And you don’t have to feel guilty about it. If you end up with a half gallon carton of ice cream and a spoon while sitting in your bed watching Mean Girls on Netflix, I won’t judge. In fact, I might ask if I can come over.
And you can tell me no.
And I won’t take it personally.
Cause sometimes, mama just needs some space. And some ice cream.