Fried

Most days I literally cannot wait until bed time.  My bed time.  Which means I spend fourteen wakeful hours wishing I were asleep.

That can't be good.

Some people get chemically altered in this state.  Then they get something called depression.  Makes sense, doesn't it?  Then there are others, like me, who get tired and there's no fancy name for what comes after that because our brain does not become chemically altered.  It's just thick with black stuff and some other worldly force (probably my grandmother) to move forward to get things done.  It's like a well seasoned iron skillet that adds more and more seasoning until you can no longer see the original color underneath.  It is warped, for the better, so much so that even the shape of the hardware becomes something else entirely. And oh man is the shape of my hardware something else entirely...unrecognizable.

I am more tired than before the before.  And so on.

I know I'm not alone in how this feels.  I would wager a crisp dollar bill that many other parents of young children are stuck in the same cycle:  unable to hire help to relieve them and plugging away at it solo because the other parent is off someplace else making a living.  This doesn't make the other parent a bad person, it just makes him a whole lot gone.

The other day my husband treated me to a surprise spa day.  He prepaid for an entire afternoon of massage, facial, manicure and pedicure.  Then he reserved a room for me at a nearby hotel so I could spend the night with fluffy pillows instead of waking up whenever the mood struck Abby or Grayson.  Heaven, right?  The whole thing probably cost us a healthy kidney but he did it because he can see the unraveling of his wife and wanted to give me a break, bless his own tired heart. 

Here's the insane part.  I didn't want to go. 

My husband had quite literally just gotten off a plane from a week long sojourn out west when I was to be shipped off to a fancy spa for the entire day.  While I appreciated the gesture, what I really wanted wasn't an entire day and night away from him or us as a family.  I miss him; more time away from him doesn't feel right either. So I did what any good woman would do, I indulged in the first spa part and canceled the hotel room (A saint, I am not.  But how cute are my toes?)

And then, less than 24 hours after he returned home from work, he was off again on another work related thing that took him away for more days and more nights.  It's just the way it is.

I try so hard to man up and suck it up because other people have it worse.  I know there are worse things that can happen.  I am friends with many women who are going through real and very horrible things like sickness, death, and a burned down workplace.  The fact that I cannot get over my own brain fog long enough to lend them a hand makes me feel 1 inch tall.

I complain (mostly) to only my mom who remembers what it was like to raise small children on her own.

I hate being this person, you guys.  I hate wanting to always be asleep instead of awake.  I miss enjoying the precious time I have with my kids.

Believe me, I get it.  I know they're only little once.  I realize these are the tender years.  Intellectually, I am totally on board.  Cognitively I know I should just eat healthier, rest more (ha!) and suck it up, Buttercup.

My insides, however, are completely oversaturated with this way of doing things and just plain effing exhaustion. I've done this gig alone for an extremely long time.  On the heels of his deployment, his new never being home work schedule feels like salt in my eye.  I see his dirty laundry more than I see him.

I just want to go to sleep but I won't.  There is more fight left so fight I shall and suck it up until school starts.  Then? Believe me, I'll be racing back home to yank the covers of my beautiful bed and plop these fried bones down to sleep.

I'm fine, by the way, there is no need to check in or call the cops or send balloons although I do love balloons.  It's the curse side of the blessing.  I think everything has both if you look hard enough.  Being a stay-at-homer isn't glamorous and it surely isn't healthy all the time but it is worth it.

Mostly, I wrote this today because nothing else would come.  Thanks for reading and come back tomorrow for happy.  Sometimes you have to push through the suck to get back to good.  This is me pushing through the suck.  I will return to good, it's what I do.  I'm just dragging you along with me for the ride this time, is all.

Also, I think I felt like pulling down the Oz curtain (Osma curtain?) and letting you all in just in case you were in the same boat.  If you are, or if you've been?  Don't be quiet, please tell me what you do or did to get by.  Caffeine and puppy shopping isn't working for me anymore, I'm open to better suggestions.  Go.