My twin sons are eight months old and I just used a knife to spread peanut butter on pieces of dark chocolate. I ate four pieces -- I'm talking about the king size Hershey's dark chocolate bar so these pieces ain't petite. Am I proud of myself? Not particularly but god almighty I may be losing my mind. No it's not because of the snack I just ate, which I saw a woman eat on an episode of "Cooking Yourself Thin." Of course she ate crap like that but still looked better than me. My body resembles a balloon filled with cottage cheese -- it's not that bad but don't women love to self-hate.
Anyway, I believe I'm losing it because I often don't know what month it is, let alone day. It feels like I'm running a never-ending marathon, racing towards what? A finish line? What's the finish line? I try to fit in things I enjoy or housework in between naps but I find it often leaves me exhausted and, honestly, I don't know what I enjoy anymore.
Sigh.
Day-in-day-out activities are hard enough but then something is thrown into the mix. During the boys midday nap yesterday I took the free time to cook hamburgers -- all you busy moms out there, cook bulk meat ahead of time and you have your protein for many meals in advance! Anyway, turns out the tinfoil I used had a tear because, before I knew it, I noticed smoke. I went into the kitchen and it was foggy. The smoke alarm went off and, of course, woke the boys from their nap. Can I never win? Then that night, when getting their bedroom ready before sleepytime (closing blinds, turning on sound machine), I noticed a bunch of flies hanging out on one of their windows. Seriously disgusting. Long story short, I think someone left the sliding glass door open downstairs and a bunch of flies got in and threw a party at the window getting the most sunlight.
I can't make this stuff up.My husband comes home from work looking like a GQ model and I look like something that crawled out of a sewer. Well, that's a little dramatic but girl I don't look good with my Walmart pajama pants, my tank top from .... well I don't know when or where this was purchased, my greasy glasses and equally greasy hair. I know this is a blip on the radar and I'll probably look back and laugh but I don't have a life, I don't have a identity. I feel like I'm not a person with thoughts, feelings and worth but a slave who must obey and never rest. I'm not allowed to feel because I still have to take care of my kids, whether I'm depressed or not. I must be selfless because they are itty bitty babies who need me.
Sorry for the pessimism but motherhood isn't always fabulous. However, my boys will be nine months old in eight days. Baby A is sitting up and yelling "Baa baa baa" often and Baby B has six teeth (Baby A has two) and is pulling himself up on anything and everything. They're happy (most of the time) and healthy so at least I'm doing something right!
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