I have been in a fog all week. I suppose it didn’t help that I was sick and having my period. Also, re-entry back from a conference is hard. And Mom 2.0 was particularly hard to come back from.
I was in fancy fancy hotels for 5 days and 4 nights, drank champagne almost every single day, and did not see any small humans that belonged to me (and therefore, I was not responsible for any of them). I wore pretty clothes in my preferred color palette. I had fancy hair and fancy makeup and fancy earrings. I wore sparkly shoes.
Did I mention I had champagne every single day?
I really love champagne. Oh, excuse me. It’s called sparkling wine. Fine. I LOVE SPARKLING WINE. BECAUSE IT’S SPARKLY.
I mean, I missed my kids.
Wait, did I actually miss my kids?
I confess. I did not.
I mean, I would have eventually missed them. But 5 days is not long enough to do any reasonable amount of missing.
I sound like a horrible person. The worst sort of mother.Why is it that I look at my busy and overwhelming week and am blind to how fucking awesome I am to have survived it and managed it mostly well and with minimal yelling? Instead, I focus only on my shortcomings and how I’m tired and failing.
I FaceTimed with my kids ONCE on the first night. I stopped because Sasquatch (1.5) was so angry and sad that I couldn’t do it anymore. To do so would be cruel. He kept crying and saying, “Mama! Mama! Mama!” It broke my cold, dark heart.
He pushed his brothers and sister away from the iPhone and wouldn’t let them talk to me. He was so angry. SO ANGRY. When we hung up, he hit Hapa Papa so much and pointed to the phone, refusing all attempted bribes of videos and games. He wanted the strange man he’s known all his life to bring back that woman.
Sigh. I can’t think about this anymore. It will make me cry. And I am home.
I am safe. And home. I am home.
Ok, not technically home at this very second. But I am only 15 minutes away. But Hapa Papa has to somehow put Sasquatch to bed tonight and I don’t know if that will happen. Oh well. Not my problem.
Because I needed to run away. I needed to be away from my family. My beautiful family that I prayed and begged God to give me.
But you know what? 5 days away from this beautiful family and it was SUPER DIFFICULT to come back to four loud and enthusiastic and rambunctious children.I confess. I did not. I mean, I would have eventually missed them. But 5 days is not long enough to do any reasonable amount of missing.
I got home Sunday afternoon. I was screaming and yelling at them by Sunday night.
Re-entry was hard.
Re-entry is always hard.
My brain has seriously been in a fog all week. I have been cranky. Moody. I GAINED 5 POUNDS. Maybe 10. I demand a recount.
FFS, body. ALL I HAD WAS CHAMPAGNE FOR 5 DAYS IN A ROW. WHY YOU DO ME LIKE THIS?
Ahem. I had no idea alcohol bloat was a thing. But since I’ve been informed of it by no less than 3 people – one of whom is my therapist – it must be true.
This is a shame because I love sparkling wine and was recently considering adding it into my life on a more regular basis. But I’m not gonna do that if it causes alcohol bloat.
I have salt bloat on a daily basis. I don’t need to add alcohol bloat to the mix.
But seriously, I need to make some changes in my life. I want to do a lot more writing. (Need, is more like.) I usually write at the end of the day except lately, I am spent by the end of the day.
My brain is just like, FUCK YOU ALL. FUCK ALL THINKING. GIVE ME SLEEP OR FACEBOOK OR A BOOK OR ANYTHING IN ALLCAPS.
Sorry. CAPSLOCK got stuck again.
Not thinking is difficult to write pithy remarks. Any remarks, actually. I would drink at night to loosen up my brain, but my brain is slutty and gets a little TOO loose with alcohol and then I get sleepy and besides, it seems a little too cliché to be an alcohol infused writer.
My inner rebel demands to be a tea infused writer. (Still cliché, but less so than alcohol or coffee.) Hmmmm… perhaps I can be a boba tea infused writer. (Well, I don’t add boba, I add egg pudding but who has ever heard of a Large Roasted Oolong Tea No Sugar No Ice with Egg Pudding infused writer?)
Maybe I can make it a thing.
My therapist asked me if my time away made me appreciate how much I did on a daily basis since I had to ask my mom to help out my husband while I was gone. I said it mostly made me annoyed and overwhelmed.
But she brings up a good point.
Why is it that I look at my busy and overwhelming week and am blind to how fucking awesome I am to have survived it and managed it mostly well and with minimal yelling? Instead, I focus only on my shortcomings and how I’m tired and failing.
Well, I’m changing the narrative.
I am awesome.I would drink at night to loosen up my brain, but my brain is slutty and gets a little TOO loose with alcohol and then I get sleepy and besides, it seems a little too cliche to be an alcohol infused writer.
I took all four kids with me to the Jelly Belly Factory the other day on an impromptu field trip with Guavarama because we could and I did and we did not die.
I painted three of my children’s finger and toe nails and did not ruin any furniture in the process. (I also did not die from spending a few minutes with my children.)
I arranged a playdate that involved sparkling wine (sense a theme, here?) and also snuck in two short naps because my friend entertained my children instead of letting our feral children corrupt each other (she’s odd, but I’m grateful) and THEN, I took my kids to kungfu and homeschooled my kids as they waited for each other.
I am clever and efficient and I will figure things out. Just you watch.