All the Things
It’s exhausting being all the things. Generally, I feel like I fall short at all of them. Falling short is also exhausting.
Today started out on a good foot despite waking up at 4:30 IN THE AM, for the love of God, to help herd the people into the car and out the door for a ski day. The people were: the husband, 2 of the 3 children, and a friend-of-a-children. I was staying home with one of our 3 children because he wasn’t feeling good (runny nose, sore throat, not covid). I fed people, ensured proper clothing and equipment had been packed, and off they went. I fed and peed the dog, rotated the laundry and crawled back into bed. I enjoyed my late sleeping, then got up and got busy doing the SUNDAY SHIT: clean the kitchen, de-funk the garbage disposal, fold 847 pair of young man (and adult) underwear. Played music, ate waffles, had good chats with psuedo-ill child. I even mopped the damn floors, which I never do because I hate it. Stickers on my chart. Winning.
And then, all of a (predictable) sudden, my uterus staged a revolt. Cramps and bullshit and I hate the world and can I have some wine yet? Damn it, it’s only 10 AM.
No more stickers, no longer winning. Angry Uterus has sabotaged my day.
The skiers get home from a good ski day, walked in with their funky snow boots ON MY CLEAN FLOORS, and deposited all of their dirty, wet gear. Ok, fine. Deep Breath. I put the extra snacks away, laid out the wet things to dry, washed the sweaty, stanky fleece head-warming garments for next time. Did anyone notice the clean laundry and house and floors? The answer is: No.
Angry Uterus takes notice that they didn’t take notice.
I then tinted my eyebrows, discussed remodel project with the husband, got annoyed with the husband because he’s annoyed with me, ran an errand, got kid’s friend handed back off to their parent, MADE A GOD FORSAKEN BUNK BED (those are a bitch, thankyouverymuch), made a steak dinner (that people think is a NORMAL THING), and cleaned the kitchen…. AGAIN. I enjoyed an annoying discussion with teenager about how no, we are not trying to be super controlling weirdos by keeping the internet-enabled cell phones out of your bedroom, late at night, when you and your friend can surf all things unfathomable…. we are only trying to keep you safe and healthy. And yes, it’s ok that we have different views on this, and yes, it’s friend’s personal property, but also yes, it’s MY house, MY rules, so poo on you, teenage person: Judge Judy and the Uterus unanimously declare: No phones in bedrooms, not even friends’ phones. Stick it where the sun don’t shine, child… you’ll thank me later. Or you won’t. Ugh.
It’s SO.MUCH.ENERGY to be a good Mom, attempting to have open, honest discussions with these people that are trying to express their own views on things. It takes an enormous amount of energy to stay calm and measured and intentional about what you say while making your best guess at how it might land, all while dealing with Angry Uterus. It’s also a lot to try and be a good wife…. considerate and fair and respectful, while trying to be those same things to MY OWN DAMN SELF. Also always floating around on the radar are the other general expectations to be a: good housekeeper (but don’t take it too far), a good cook, a good budgeter, a good daughter, a good friend, an aware, intelligent contributor to society, to look good, to be a smart, educated and strong-but-not-too-bitchy woman, and to always be available for all the things that your people may need. And that’s just to name the lead horses in the race of “who shall I be today?”.
I often feel the pressure to be ALL THE THINGS. I’ve gotten better at being a certain thing for a certain period of time, and accepting that I can not be all of the things all the time. That, in itself, is part of the chameleon beauty of being a woman: I can adapt, I can shift, I can stretch and accommodate on a whim. I can detect your whims and preferences better than you can do so for yourself, most of the time…….But doing so does take a considerable amount of energy. And few others seem to validate or appreciate that energy spend. One of my main mantras in life is: Nothin’s free. This is a prime example of that. It may be undetectable to the outside world, but there’s a lot going on under the surface to keep this circus twirling….. and today, the twirling ballerina and her Angry Uterus are damn tired.
