Let’s review my weekend. I was vomited on, bled on, and I carried fox pooh in my hand. I asked a child to please not put worms in his ear. And I was told that hot chocolate and fritos was a “good bwekfest cuz you get the milk and corn dat way”. I got up early and stood by while rambunctious boys sold popcorn outside a grocery store for cub scouts. I was an innocent bystander in a cub scout camping trip. I volunteered for a very fun fall festival involving a chilli (spilled on top of the vomit, blood and pooh) cook off contest, corn hole competition, face painting, DJ, moon bounce, and ghetto beer “tent”. I toured two homes for sale, one of which I will never be able to unsee, try as I might to scrub the images from my eyeballs. And I closed the weekend with a load of laundry which entailed pulling out 5 candy wrappers, 4 empty frito bags, half of a marshmallow, a stick, one used bandaid, and something that I think might have been bait out of one 8 year-olds pants.
It is now Monday and my house looks like it has a hang-over. I wish I could help it but I am somewhat paralyzed in the overwhelming minutia of it all.
On days like this, like every single Monday, it is a no win situation that I think mothers across over-scheduled America struggle with whether they work full time or not. Part of me wants to walk out the front door and do something else. This is the Monday morning part of me. The Sunday night part thinks I would freak out if I had to work on Monday because nothing got done in the house over the weekend.
Monday morning me says I want to live a bigger life than the hunt for matching socks, or pick up wet towels, or wonder if this child’s pants are clean or dirty. I don’t want to go to the flipping grocery store–AGAIN. I don’t want to do all the things that no one will appreciate but will drive me crazy unless they get done, and of course no one is going to do them except for me–mom. I will spend the whole day dealing with mind numbing details, piles, and messes.
Sunday night me thinks thank goodness I will be home to fill the bare cupboard, replenish the empty underwear drawer, and take the dog to the vet. Sunday night me says it’s ok–leave the debris I will deal with it tomorrow.
Monday morning me says what were you thinking?
I swear the two of them might get in a slap fight any day now.
I am at complete odds with myself and what I should be doing. When I live a bigger life it feels like my family life becomes smaller. My kids still need a lot from me and I realized, before, in one of my other lives, that when I am too busy I’m not the best mom.
Finding the right balance between big life and small life, between busy and stalled, between self and mom–is difficult at best.
Making peace with wherever you are at the very moment is an epic battle, the quest, the goal, the finished to do list, the prize.
It is now Monday afternoon me.
Peace be with you Monday Moms.
Post-posting update–it has come to my attention that some readers believe the title should have been: Fox Poop–The Struggle is Real. Thoughts?