Last 48 hours have really tested me. Me as a parent, as a partner, and as a stranger. I swear if another rando looks at me sideways, I’m gonna flip tables. It’s just been hard. I’m just hard. I feel out of touch within my own confines of personhood and the obligated identity of mamahood. I’ve repeated over and over the scenario in my head once these two children are placed behind brick walls of a classroom so I can be away from them instead of day in, day out covered in poop, puke, and tears.
The more I think about myself and my needs, the more I accept the decrease of happiness. I place more priority of three whole entities’ needs above my singly own. I haven’t found a healthy balance yet. I can’t satisfy my personal wants to fuel my energy and clarity for these other people’s wants. I just don’t have that kinda support. Monetary or physically or emotionally. My main release is when I take the hour to prepare two children and drive 15 minutes to the gym and spend 30 minutes preparing to leave them in gym daycare to then only work out for 45 minutes. Almost two hours in turn for a quiet 45 minutes is kinda sorta not really worth it.
As I’m stuck in between these two little bodies, I’m still fuming mad. My locked jaw and flared nostrils tell me so. I was fine until the toddler woke up from history’s shortest car nap and then he saw that I was driving out of the YMCA parking lot. Cue the wailing. I endured the next 10 minutes of backseat screeching only because the daycare closed in 30 minutes. So, I’m desperately ignoring Humnoy’s attempts to avoid a home nap. I just want to avoid everything else.
Today’s excitement is it’s 7-11 Day meaning a free Slurpee. Unless they deliver, I won’t get one. I see no point in buckling, unbuckling, and dragging two kids into a 7-11 for a tiny ass Slurpee even if it is free. I won’t even get to enjoy it because Wailing Toddler. I hate today.