You know how some of it goes, I’m sure. Wake up, feed the kids, pack lunches and snacks, wrangle them into winter gear (realize your oldest kid’s boots are missing from outing with dad), get them to school. Talk to fellow mom, discover that last week I offered a playdate for our youngest boys that is hard to follow through on. Go to the office to do parent council duties because, in a moment of weakness, I did what I explicitly said I wouldn’t do, and volunteered to be co-chair of the council (there was no one else, everyone seemed to be looking my way, I believe in community involvement, I like the people, blah blah). Help count money from our Winter Fair from the weekend (amazing but huge), fill out forms, make bank deposit.
Find my son in the office because he doesn’t feel well. Take son home to meet frustrated husband who is late for work because I am late from school. Work at home on computer to prepare for council meeting and lose opportunity to be with my son. Lie to him that I’ll be five minutes, which minutes never expire, shush him when he notes this, and send him away. Feel vaguely sick about living wrong.
Pick up youngest son from preschool, which he doesn’t want to leave, and in that colourful, exciting place with attention and activities devoted specifically to his life stage, I more or less wish on his behalf that for today he could stay too.
Meet with visiting beautiful friend from B.C., a non-complaining optimist and engaged citizen who has real problems, striking vivid contrast to my un-pinpointed malaise. Cook with her in the kitchen, at least able to give her a hot meal.
Pick up son from kindergarten at 3pm. Search futilely for his lost gloves, the last pair of three that have been lost in a couple of weeks, barely acknowledging supply teacher who is trying to help my search for the gloves.
Muddle through the afternoon, wishing my kids didn’t need to eat so often. Notice during dinner prep that oldest son has curled up in a ball on couch. Remember I have to chair council meeting tonight until 9pm with childcare in the school gym, meaning I won’t be able to get all three kids, including the 2 year old, to bed until 10pm (husband works nights). Get on phone and call babysitters. Revel in good fortune that second call yields results. Go downstairs to find oldest asleep. Carry him to bed upstairs.
Return downstairs to finish making dinner. Find other two children hungry, eating whatever, spilling drinks. Feed kids, get them into pyjamas, bribe second son that if he is considerate to babysitter he will get a candy cane tomorrow (multi-tasking here, I kind of want to give him one anyway). Realize that if sitter gets kids to sleep, I will be free as of 9:30pm after council meeting. Promise self that I will go to bed at 9:30pm. Decide I want to read for an hour, then to bed at 10:30pm. Sleep is the silent remedy.
Drive to school for third time today. Chair meeting as well as I can but still feel lacking, cutting off conversations because of shortage of time, forget one agenda item altogether (I offered the second page of my agenda for attendance because we needed a piece of paper and promptly forgot that page actually contained an item for discussion).
Drive home to find babysitter asleep on the couch, and feel guilty because it’s a school night for this girl. Try to clean kitchen while waiting for her father to pick her up. Have panic attack when he knocks on the window because we didn’t hear him knock on the front door. Feel grateful to be surrounded by kind neighbours.
Can’t quite face messy kitchen. See date on computer screen, remember I need to write blog post. Hear my oldest son awake in his bed, coughing, sniffling, and tend to him while writing this post. Observe that no forward momentum was made today towards holiday preparation, and I forgot to pay the bills.
I don’t know what to tell you, except maybe sorry for writing the most boring blog post in the history of blogland. Nothing’s wrong, but I’m pretty blah. Is it the darkening days of winter? The need for a break, one that’s longer than an hour, that doesn’t really come? The inability to sleep enough to rid myself of the low-grade cold that won’t go away, the kind that makes you feel bad but not bad enough to check out and lie on a bed for a day or two?
I feel like a whiner (although I don’t think generally I am), and I feel ungrateful (although I know generally I’m not). I’m just tired, and giving in to it tonight. And so I’m going to bed.
With wishes for the same for the tired among you.