March 9, 2012 by Marj Hatzell
I’ve been around the Internets for a few years. OK, fine, seven. Well, seven since I started this blog, anyways. And a few years before that I was
wasting time surfing and getting to know the world.
You’d think by now I’d sit down and learn how to design a website or something. Sheesh. I try. I dabble. I read, I start, I download. Then it sits there.
Kinda like my housework.
I mean well, honest. Some weeks I am the very awesomesauce of mothers. I keep up with the messes, cook a decent dinner each and every night, the school bags and lunches are packed the night before and I’m dressed better than Donna Effing Reed on Steroids. Those are the few-and-far-between days. Like, the ones that happen mostly in my dreams? THOSE. Most days I’m in survival mode, trying to get from one day to the next relatively unscathed Or at least without new scars or bruises. Or at least making it seen like my job is effing easy and stuff. Ahem.
It ain’t easy.
And before you know it, a week (or two or many) has passed and I’m all DAMN I MEANT TO DO THAT DAYS AGO.
I used to knit. And scrapbook. And cook a good dinner every night. I had meal plans, schedules on the fridge for the kids. I worked out or walked every single day. I read book after book after book. I blogged every day. I slept every night.
I slept every night.
I am beginning to think I should stop being so damned hard on myself. This sleep stuff? I know you are tired of hearing about it. And the issues with poo. And my muddy backyard. And issues with muddy dogs in my backyard. But the truth is? Blogging about it keeps me sane. Well, you know, if I was actually sane to begin with. How about IT KEEPS ME FROM GOING OVER THE EDGE?
My expectations are much too high, methinks.
I should stop thinking I’ll get it all done in a day. Or a week. Or even a year. And I should start focusing on getting through each moment. And enjoying each moment. Because honestly? I don’t enjoy every moment of every day. I have to keep reminding myself what my father said (constantly), “Every day above ground is a great day.” Indeed, Pop. And what you said when you came out of surgery, right before you slipped into the coma that you never woke up from.
“I’m still alive, aren’t I?” when I asked him how he felt.
I need to stop playing his last moments over and over in my head. I need to start watching my boys sleep more. I need to stop asking Bug Boy to be quiet and put down what I’m doing and appreciate that he speaks to me, unlike his brother. I need to stop begging my child to sleep and enjoy the fact that he wants me to snuggle with him and play with his iPad. Maybe he just wants to spend more time with me. Maybe he is trying to tell me something. Maybe I need to start appreciating how awesomely good I have it and how much I have to be thankful for.
I don’t do that enough. Be thankful, that is.
I’m pledging that for now on? Housework is important but family time is even more so. I pledge that like last night I’ll say, “Screw homework! It’s awesome outside, let’s play!” and take my boys to the park (where Bugaboo ate wood chips. And he had trouble sleeping last night. Hmmm…). I’m pledging to remember the small things. To think of friends often. To love my family even when they piss me off.I’m also pledging to be funnier. I reread my stuff sometimes and I’m all REMEMBER WHEN I USED TO BE FUNNY? AND CLEVER? Yeah. That.
This Domestic gig? I’m doing well enough. I’m going to put my scarce energy into something most productive now: consuming potatoes.