I gotta get back on the wagon, y’all.
Not THAT wagon!
I’ve been so lax about posting each day. Originally, I intended to write about a change we are implementing each and every day. While I had so much to change at first, lately I have been in maintenance mode. Plus, I have enjoyed allowing myself a little breathing room, as trying to post something meaningful when my brain just wants to vegetate is a little daunting.
But I had a breakdown last week. I kept it together on the outside, but I was losing my mind on the inside. Yes, all this change is my idea; it is my preference. And for the most part, everyone goes along without too much complaining. But every once in a while I really feel like I am dragging three people where they do not want to go. The day after the Great Bread Argument I was rushing around trying to get everything ready for a new work/school week, when I realized I was the ONLY one rushing around. Hell, I was the ONLY ONE STANDING UP!!
And then I realized I had been standing for all but ten minutes of the entire day. To satisfy the rumblings of my husband when he searched our pantry for peanut butter cookies, I found a recipe and made them from scratch. (They were good.) I washed, dried, and folded laundry. (Though not quite enough, as I still had to scrounge to find an acceptable wardrobe for myself on Monday.) I cooked dinner, I cleaned dinner, and I think I ran the dishwasher twice during the day, and still managed to find dishes piled in the sink – dishes I hadn’t used. And here I was, the only person interested in what needed to be done to prepare us for tomorrow. I could hear a football game in the background, intermittently overpowered by the squeal of an iPod game.
It was enough to make any mom lose her mind.
Something kept me sane enough to hold a conversation with the hubster. Instead of letting the anger boil up and explode on everyone around me, I was able to form moderately intelligible words and communicate a very basic desire for cooperation. (Picture Tom Hanks in A League of Their Own when he tells Evelyn she’s still missing the cutoff man on third.)
“I need help.”
“What kind of help do you want?”
“The kind that will keep me from wanting to punch people in the jaw.”
“Um, can you be more specific?”
And so I outlined everything that I deemed out of order. At the top of the list, breakfast had become a complete fiasco. Many mornings, Aaron was the only one at the table with his cereal bowl while I rushed around looking for shoes and repeating, “Why do you have only one shoe? AND WHY IS IT ON MY TABLE?!!!” Then I would instruct everyone that we needed to leave in four minutes, and I would notice Aaron’s cereal was still untouched. He would explain to me, a full fifteen minutes after breakfast should have started, that he was waiting on us to gather and say the blessing as a family, like I had said we would way-back-when. THAT, my friends, will make you feel two inches tall.
So as I explained to Dom in broken sentences my desire to NOT be the only person interested in the next twelve hours of our lives, he offered a simple yet genius solution. He will be responsible for the kids in the mornings, and I will be responsible for pets and breakfast. And we’ll gather at the table at 7:00 and start our day on the right foot – together.
So, when I climb back on that wagon, I know I have someone else to pull it. I’m tiiiiyerd!