Monday, March 18, 2013

i come here feeling like a guilty child. my head is down. i avert my eyes looking for the right words. i don't know where to start. i can't even come up with a title for this post that encapsulates the level of emotion behind it. and i hesitate to write the words at all but i'm doing this. i'm doing this because, when i look back on my experience as a mother it won't be with feelings of loss that i didn't do it perfectly. nor will i paint the picture to my kids that i was always right or good. but that i did it with honesty. and that i was real. with real feelings and real worries and real feelings of pride AND failure. and the honest to god truth is, it's hard. and sometimes, you are just too tired, and too exhausted, and have too much on your plate for one human person to handle.

and you snap.

yesterday, i threw the worlds largest adult tantrum. i may as well have thrown myself to the floor kicking and screaming and crying out alligator tears while proclaiming i hate everyone and everything. oh wait, i did that. i would also take all the blessings i have in my life (the roof over my head, my amazing husband, and two kids) and proceed to throw them to the ground and stomp on them like some self righteous child.

someday, when my kids open up this blog that i've hopefully bound and edited into a reality 'novel' of their childhood they may chuckle and say, 'i remember that. the day mom FREAKED out'. because it's 5, right? when you start forming long lasting memories and can start scarring your kids for life? perfect.

so to paint the scene, it was a day that should have been great. i had taken the previous friday off (as the kids were out of school) and did all that junk i typically have to do on the weekends. i hauled the kids around to costco, and trader joe's, and the bank, and the gas station, and so on and so forth. i did it all, in a mad and feverish dash so we could have a weekend of rest, relaxation and togetherness. all the while, apologizing to them for so much car time, and store time, and can you grab me this and that time.

on saturday night we had our first night out / break from the kids in more than two months and we were ready. SO READY. and it was all about me. a special dinner planned by sean for my birthday. 6 of my most favorite people, spoiling me plain rotten. life is good. things are good. my mood? good.

sunday however, i woke up possessed by something i cannot explain. the kids slept at my sisters and i started the day by watching a girly movie instead of 'good luck charlie' or 'spider-man'. i mean, heaven right? i chose 'rabbit hole' with nicole kidman. it's basically a story of a grieving couple who lose their 4 year old son when he runs into the street chasing his dog and gets hit by a car.

way to kill the mood, right?

i cry cry cry cry cry. the horror of the reality this couple endures is too much for me and sean comes down to find me a crumpled mess of chest heaving sobs. you should all totally watch it. it's uplifting and inspiring. just kidding, don't do it, it will ruin your whole day like it did mine.

after wiping off my face, i headed over to my sisters to pick up the kids that at this point i missed so fiercely for fear of them someday dying a tragic death by runaway dog, or car, or swine flu. when i got home, i did what any crazy mother of two that cannot sit still would do and got to work installing the double bi-fold doors on my closet.

it's taken me SIX years to install these doors. after researching and pinning (for pinterest lovers) all options for our smaller-ish house i needed something functional, space saving, and cheap.

'easy to install' says the box from lowes and after painting 3 times on each side and flip flopping them to let dry and paint paint painting and flip flopping for a week they were ready to go up and already feeling not so easy to install.

so 3 days of tweaking and many hours later, i find myself still wrestling with these doors. like, on my hands and knees face to the dusty hardwoods, kicking and fighting the clothes in my way hanging from within, fingers raw and numb from adjusting brackets here and screws there and shimmying this clip here and that lever there i wanted to scream to the heavens asking what i did to deserve this.


i mean, really! the closet was 1 inch higher on one side then the other and after i kid you not 6 hours i started to really lose it. throwing screwdrivers into my closet walls, swearing at inanimate objects, and cursing every decision that ever led up to purchasing this house i live in. i wanted to burn it to the ground. with a bomb.

sean would come in, and ask if i needed help. i mean, yes. i needed help. physical and psychological help. i needed a padded room. and a straight and level floor, and some form of medication. the fit i threw... it was big and bad and mean. and i believe the only reason sean is speaking to me today is because it's my birthday and he's probably secretly plotting my stay at the mental ward.

i told sean to save himself and go. go for a run, get out of here. never come back if you know what's good for you. and he did.

go for a run i mean. he came back, god bless him.

and i spoke to my mother, who talked me off my ledge and told me all the things i already know. that i'm just tired. and that i just have this overwhelming need for things to be perfect, and that you would be hard pressed to find a home with straight and level floors, and that someday i will move into a different house with different problems that maybe doesn't make me feel claustrophobic. and that sean will forgive me and the kids will forgive me, and to just walk away from the doors.

and i heard everything that she said, and as i stirred the dinner that was an hour past due, and i cried like a baby into my cooking seafood pasta and my babies cried at my feet that they were starving to death something washed over me and i felt peace. i remembered the pain i felt while watching that movie, the feeling of loss the mother felt in her empty quiet house and BAM it was all gone. the anger, the fear, the frustration. the feeling of entitlement that i should have the perfect house with level floors was gone. the ways in which i would burn my house to the ground stopped clouding my every thought. the only thing i needed to do was feed my kids.

i looked down at the two of them and i hugged them and i said i was sorry for paying more attention to my closet then them that day. i told them i behaved badly and they looked at me with confusion and ian says to me 'okay mom, i didn't think you were bad. but is dinner ready?'

and then sean came home and i poured a giant glass of wine and we ate dinner. me, with swollen eyes and fresh perspective. i gave the kids their bath, and read them their night time stories while sean fastened the closet pulls to the doors. my crooked ass closet doors. they are hung. they open and close. they block the clutter that bursts from within, and i'm walking away.

i'm walking away with a patient and understanding husband, loving and forgiving kids, and a mom that is so wise she knows always what to say to make it all better. what else could a crazy strung out, mother of two with a crooked house want?

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