I give. Enough already.
So let me be clear. This post is going to contain too much. Of everything.
I am at wit's end with the parade of viruses that have taken up residence in my home recently. And as I write this at 2 a.m., one child has not yet recovered going on day four, one child began a mass exodus of her system at midnight, and a skunk has sprayed an area outside my home that makes it quite possible to feel the skunk is actually in my home with me; sharing in my misery while contributing to it at the same time.
I have done laundry at single digit a.m. hours several times this week. I can tell you when my neighbors get up in the morning and how many times there are trips to the loo in their homes based on light patterns. I can tell you that three hours of sleep between nine and midnight will never feel like you have slept at all. I can tell you that there is not an amount of caffeine that will change the way that feels.
I work outside my home. Normally. This week not so much. The guilt that I had on day one has turned into an exhausted sense of failure and shame by the end of the week. There is no way to give everything to both home and work, and this week no one is getting what they need. I feel the need to apologize to everyone, but then I'm angry about apologizing for taking care of my kids. And yet, no one has outright asked me to. I just feel I must.
The adults in this household have had more conversation this week than usual by virtue of the increased middle of the night wakefulness, but the topics have been on ratings scales of barf and poo. And whose turn it is to handle the barf or poo. And when will either one of those two stop happening at such an alarming rate. I could make a charming pictograph on how this virus is likely to play out in your home should you be unfortunate enough to get it, but I don't have the Pantone color quite right for some of what I have seen and cannot unsee.
I'm so tired. Tired of apologizing for not being there. For not knowing what else to do. For not knowing how to stop the cycle of sickness. For being crabby and indecisive. For asking for too much. For questioning myself and my capabilities. For the fact that I look like a raccoon with or without end-of-day make-up these days. It's a good thing purple is my favorite color.
My parting advice is this: Don't touch anything. Don't eat anything. For heaven's sake do not LICK ANYTHING! Wash your hands. Again. Right now. If anyone near you says, "You know? I feel a little off..." Get out of there now. As in yesterday. And if your child starts any late night conversation with "Mooooommmmy..." you may as well bust out the hazmat suit and proceed with a bucket.
You'll thank me later.
So let me be clear. This post is going to contain too much. Of everything.
I am at wit's end with the parade of viruses that have taken up residence in my home recently. And as I write this at 2 a.m., one child has not yet recovered going on day four, one child began a mass exodus of her system at midnight, and a skunk has sprayed an area outside my home that makes it quite possible to feel the skunk is actually in my home with me; sharing in my misery while contributing to it at the same time.
I have done laundry at single digit a.m. hours several times this week. I can tell you when my neighbors get up in the morning and how many times there are trips to the loo in their homes based on light patterns. I can tell you that three hours of sleep between nine and midnight will never feel like you have slept at all. I can tell you that there is not an amount of caffeine that will change the way that feels.
I work outside my home. Normally. This week not so much. The guilt that I had on day one has turned into an exhausted sense of failure and shame by the end of the week. There is no way to give everything to both home and work, and this week no one is getting what they need. I feel the need to apologize to everyone, but then I'm angry about apologizing for taking care of my kids. And yet, no one has outright asked me to. I just feel I must.
The adults in this household have had more conversation this week than usual by virtue of the increased middle of the night wakefulness, but the topics have been on ratings scales of barf and poo. And whose turn it is to handle the barf or poo. And when will either one of those two stop happening at such an alarming rate. I could make a charming pictograph on how this virus is likely to play out in your home should you be unfortunate enough to get it, but I don't have the Pantone color quite right for some of what I have seen and cannot unsee.
I'm so tired. Tired of apologizing for not being there. For not knowing what else to do. For not knowing how to stop the cycle of sickness. For being crabby and indecisive. For asking for too much. For questioning myself and my capabilities. For the fact that I look like a raccoon with or without end-of-day make-up these days. It's a good thing purple is my favorite color.
My parting advice is this: Don't touch anything. Don't eat anything. For heaven's sake do not LICK ANYTHING! Wash your hands. Again. Right now. If anyone near you says, "You know? I feel a little off..." Get out of there now. As in yesterday. And if your child starts any late night conversation with "Mooooommmmy..." you may as well bust out the hazmat suit and proceed with a bucket.
You'll thank me later.
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