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The Problems with Singling It

Once again the defining word in my life is exhaustion. When the Irish Twins headed off to school today (earlier then usual per my request) I crumbled back onto my soft, inviting bed and entered non-existance.

Remewin is sick with the vomits, Albowin was awake ALL NIGHT LONG, and the Mischievite tried a 'cling to her and she won't notice I'm in the bed' tactic last night.

See, that's the problem with singling it. There is no break time, no time to regain your balance. It's like one of those bad nightmares where you're trying to run as fast as you can but keep stumbling, even though you know that if you stop then bad things will happen.

Sometimes when things get really rough I find myself begging God not to make me go through it.

I'll make promises I can't keep.

"Please, if You just let this pass I promise I'll never ask for anything ever again." Yeah right.


"I swear I'll pray everyday if You just make this stomach flu go away." For at least a week.

I'll use threats I can't enforce.

"If You don't make this go away then I'm never going to church again." Until someone notices.

"If You can't do this, then maybe You don't exist." Except when I need You.

I'll even beg.

"Pleeeeaase! If you've ever loved me, don't make me deal with this."

Vicbowin has this friend at school whose mom is single (like completely single, not just soldier-single) and on Tuesday--after the 3 day weekend-- Vicbowin informed me that her friend had a bump on her forehead from where her mom threw a shoe at her.

My response to Vicbowin's indignant recitation was: "Poor woman."

Vicbowin was stunned by my taking sides with a mother who would throw things at her child, but all I could think about was how that poor lady had been stuck in her house with her children for 3 days without reprieve.

I completely understood and even though I've never thrown anything at my kids I'm sure that there are things that I do that would shock Vicbowin's little friend.

"You're mom locked you in the closet for how long?!"

It's nice to know that I'm not alone in my trial. That I'm not the only mother out there who hates the idea of having one more thing to deal with. Whether it's sickness, holidays, or simply a sassy attitude... every little thing adds up when you are alone until you start dreading going to bed at night or getting out of the shower because it just means you have to deal with things sooner.

So today I did what any guilty mother would do. I crawled into my bed and slept until obligation forced me to get out. Then I sat around in my pajamas (sans bra) until I had no other choice but to get dressed and go be a responsible parent again.

And to think I couldn't wait to grow up.

Note: I've actually never locked my kids in a closet... but I've locked myself in one!

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Mutterings of a Middle-Aged Dreamer

Use your words, my dear sweet soul, they are inside of you... So find them. Write, you silly girl, write so hard the world will never forget you.
But does it matter if the world remembers you? 
Age begins to press its hands upon your chest and the need to be remembered seems to increase with the pressure. 
Stop.
That's not a line of thought you're interested in pursuing. 
Live in the now.
Does it matter if the world remembers you if your neighbor is going hungry? 
Perhaps age is merely pushing you out the door. 
Go. Live in the now.