The (Not So) Very Bad Day

I woke up in a bad mood yesterday. It was one of those days that you just want to stay in bed. I was aggravated. I was tired. My kids didn’t sleep. I wanted to scream because all I wanted to do was work out, but I couldn’t because the baby was asleep in the bed with me. Every time I tried to move him back to his crib he woke up crying which, in turn, woke my almost 3 year-old up. I felt like all the odds were stacked against me. I felt like screaming and crying because it’s like asking for a miracle to just have an hour to myself to sweat out some stress. SWEAT. I don’t think I’m asking for much…right? It’s not like I’m trying to go to a movie, or shopping, or dinner, or get a pedicure. All of those things sound amazing by the way. No! Instead, I care for two kids under the age of 3 ALONE. FULL TIME. My husband gets to go to the gym at his own leisure. He can work out for hours if he wants to! He gets whole nights of uninterrupted sleep. Yep. Now I’m mad at him. 

I go to work, my rampage continues. I have so much to do. I can’t focus. The same people I deal with on a daily basis are on my nerves. I sit through meetings and mentally roll my eyes. I contemplate running away for a few hours. Correction: I contemplate running away to my bed for a few hours. An old lady eyes the hem of my dress the wrong way. WHAT? NOW MY DRESS IS TOO SHORT? It covers my knees! Insert teenage “I can’t do anything right” whiny voice. I decide its best to keep to myself the rest of the day. My new motto has become, “Get your crap done and get out.” A kind of stay below-the-radar till it’s over day. 5:00 p.m. comes and leaves. I’m STILL working. Finally, I wrap everything up a little after 6:00. (Hubby has been at the gym for two hours by now.) 

I go and pick up my kids, who are both ecstatic to see me. This is not sarcasm. My oldest greets me at the sitter’s door and wraps his arms around me. My youngest bounces up and down in his walker when he lays eyes on me. I instantly feel my hardened heart melt. I pack my precious cargo into the car and head home. I take care of all the farm chores when we get home, fight with my oldest about him trying to pick his brother up/dinner/how he doesn’t want a bath. I get both kids bathed while washing my face and brushing my teeth with their bath water.  

 My youngest sacks out. I talk briefly to my husband. I fight with my oldest about going to bed. I finally get him down. I sleep walk to my room and crawl into bed. Why am I ranting about this seemingly normal day? I don’t keep a Facebook account, but I do reactiviate it from time to time. My friend got married in Vegas last week and I wanted to see her fun pictures. Anyway, as I’m scrolling through my news feed, or whatever the cool kids are calling it these days…I see that not one, not two, but three of the people I am friends with on there have recent posts about their sweet babies having to be hospitalized for health problems. One is batteling with seizures. One was hospitalized for 11 days because of kidney problems, and the other family was just asking for prayers with no explanation. 

What is wrong with me? Yesterday I am about to cry because I can’t have an hour to myself. Today, I am seeing all these poor heartbroken parents pleading for prayers for their sick children. SOMEONE please smack me. My “problems” are nothing. Parents out there wish they had my “problems.” I quit Facebook because I didn’t feel that it added any value to my life. That’s so not true. Sometimes I need the reminder that I should be thankful for what God has blessed me with. To all my friends wishing they could fight with their healthy kids, I am sorry for complaining. I pray your children regain their health. I pray you have God to get you through this time. But, most of all, I pray that I never forget how I feel in this moment. My heart is with you. 

  

Who I Am

Who am I? I find myself asking this question a lot. When I was an 18 year-old flame burning and itching to graduate, I thought the World was so many things. I thought the possibilities were endless. I was selfish. I was reckless. I was naive. That attitude and thought process continued throughout my early 20’s. I know I wasn’t alone in those kinds of actions, that seems to be what those years are about. Looking back, I am extremely appreciative to my parents. They afforded me (and my sister) many opportunities that they themselves never had. For example, my mother dreamed of being an interior designer. She would have made an amazing one. Instead, she began working for the phone company at age 17. She retired from there in 2009, the year after I graduated from college. 

I have always worried that my resume looks as though I don’t have any clue what I want to be when I grow up. I have several customer service positions (bar tending and serving) listed on there. I worked for Child Protective Services for two years and now a newspaper for two years. At the age I am right now, my mother had already worked for the same company for 13 years. Comparing myself to my mother here is only to reference the fact that I have tried many different occupations and have been able to better pinpoint the things I enjoy because of it. 

I am thankful for my morally corrupt years of my youth. It makes me know the person I never want to be. I am thankful for the many different jobs/careers I have tried, they have made me better understand what I do not want to do. I am thankful for my parents. Without their love, support, and years of working for the same company while putting their dreams on the backburner, I wouldn’t understand the magnitude of what those actions have meant for my life. 

  

I am not done with this process yet. I am on a road to discovery. Who am I? I am an evolving person. I am not measurable. My experience is not limited. I am more than my resume. I am more than my degree. I am more than my dreams.