A Day in the Life of a WAHM: The Night I Lost My Shit!

The Life of a SAHM: The Night I Lost My Shit #momlife

Being a work at home mom has its perks. Like a lot of perks. I can work in my jammies, I often do. I can set my own schedule to an extent. But it’s not all sunshine and lollipops and last night, I kind of lost my shit. OK, I totally lost my shit. Like all the shits I had totally went out the window. I stopped giving shits and it might have been past time. Let me back up and explain yesterday, every day in fact, so that you can understand how my days go. Strap yourself in because you’re about to live the day in the life of a WORK at home mom.

I wake up between 5:30 and 6:00 am. I get breakfast for the babies, take out their vitamins, pour their drinks, and take their lunches out of the frig that I prepared the night before. I pour a cup of coffee (hello!) and take the dog out to potty. I wake the babies up by 6:15 am with a “good morning, it’s going to be a great day!”, and sit them down for breakfast. There’s typically a fight that I ignore. I hold my shit and encourage them to finish their breakfast, get dressed, go brush their teeth, brush their hair, grab their book bags, get out the door. This should be a 30 minute routine since everything is laid out for them. It’s typically no less than 45 minutes. Oh well. Into the car we go at 7:00 am, 15-20 minute drive to school.

7:15 am…I drop them off with a kiss goodbye, a hug, and a, “Bug, be good, you can do this!” and a “Bubby, be a good boy and learn something new you can teach mommy”. 20 minutes back home if traffic agrees.

WAHM log, daily, 7:35 am…I’m home. Time for bon bons, alone time, and Jerry Springer. OK, so I really do turn the channel on for Jerry Springer’s hot mess of a show that will come on at 8:00 am, but not to watch, just because I need the white noise. I’m used to arguing. Apparently I can’t work without it. Plus, what’s a bon bon for real?

7:55 am, clean up the mess from the night before, sit down, schedule up socials, write down my to do list for a day of work…oh wait…I forgot…I need to run upstairs and brush my teeth and hair, I might have meetings today! Plus…hygiene!

8:00 am…sit down at my computer and really get to work. Real work, people. I have a job. People don’t realize that because I don’t PREACH, but I work ALL DAY LONG for money. I have meetings (yes, from home), I have deadlines, I have people working for me (shut up…I laugh at that too). I manage a product, a new launch, there’s stress. Oh, and while I work my 8 hours at my real job (I might work more than that), I’m also dealing with calls from school nurses and teachers, paying bills, filing taxes (OK, I’m behind on that), cleaning up the house, doing laundry (no folding required), balancing checkbooks, making shopping lists, figuring out what’s for dinner, and occasionally I get to delve into this silly blog of mine. From home…until 3:00 pm (sans shower and food I might add…who has time for that?).

3:00 pm…I close down the computer, walk the dog, set the alarm, and head out the door for the 20-minute drive to pick the babies up from school. Yesterday, I got a call from the school nurse on the way that helped me on my lose-my-shit journey for the evening. Pick them up, typically head to the grocery store for staples, then home.

4:00 pm…more work. Remember, full time job? Yea, that. Emails have been coming in while I was gone, tasks haven’t been completed. I work my “real” job while I prepare dinner, help with homework that refuses to get done (Bug..do it!), get out uniforms for the next day (that I dig from the unfolded pile of laundry I did that day), prepare lunches for the next day, and listen to spoiled children argue about what they will and won’t eat, what Wii or whatever games they do/don’t want to play, and TELL me what they like/don’t like for dinner. All the while, I work, I clean up messes, I cook, I lay out clothes, I prepare lunches, and I accommodate.

Every day. Every night. Accommodate. Quietly accommodate while B works outside of the home and teaches school twice a week. Just me and my bon bon schedule. I hold my shit.

This time? Bug refused to do her homework…again. Bubby had no interest in what we were eating. In fact, he demanded I heat up the deep fryer to cook him his favorite chicken nuggets despite the fact that there was a full meal cooked. Bug snuck in the frig and stole some cherries. I looked around, still having work to do, lunches to fix, clothes to lay out, and they had crap everywhere. No one to help me.

6:00 pm…nothing felt right. Work wasn’t done, homework (Bug’s only) wasn’t done, clothes weren’t laid out, dinner wasn’t eaten, lunches weren’t made. It was a hot mess in here and I’d had it.

7:00 pm…I LOST MY SHIT. I took all of the toys, the clothes they’d thrown in the floor, the books from homework not done…I threw it all in the middle of the floor and I told them to get their stuff together. Get it cleaned up, including the attitudes, or get it gone.

7:02 pm…man, it got quiet in here.

7:05 – 8:30 pm…I got a lot of work done. A LOT.

9:00 pm…cleaned up, bed time, calm. But, I’d lost my shit. All but that is the typical life of a WAHM.

9:15 pm…back in the kitchen for dinner clean up, lunch prep, breakfast prep, lay out the clothes, and a double check of what I forgot to do for work today. Another hour or 2, I might regain my shit. I’ll get caught back up and I’ll be ready to face 5:30 am where it starts all over again.

12:00 am – 2:00 am – Sometime between this window, I usually give up and go to sleep.

5:30 am…Oh, you know.

Anyway, the life of a WAHM has awesome benefits. I totally love my life. I love my family, my husband, my kids, my job. Typically everything is awesome. But before you think we sit around and eat bon bons and do nothing all day? STFU! Some days, a lot of days, are AWESOME, but some days aren’t. Those are the days, on the rare occasion we forget to regain our composure, that we completely lose our shit. Last night, I lost my shit.

I’m not proud. But sometimes…when your kids feel too privileged and don’t know what a struggle really is since they’ve never experienced one…when life gets overwhelming? That’s when you schedule “lose your shit” in at around 7:00 pm and hope for a better day tomorrow.

My Story…It’s Not Always Sparkly #DayOfLight

depression

Depression isn’t always obvious, y’all! It’s such a silent condition sometimes. Still we think to ourselves, these crazy people can’t control their emotions. They’re idiots. Depression is for losers who whine all of the time. We hate all of those whiners. That’s all they ever do. Whine. They never seem happy. Life is against them. They tell us often. Or do they? Did you ever stop to consider that the happiest people you know may suffer in silence? They don’t whine at all. They sparkle. They shine. Their life is the life that you want. But is it?

My friend, Brandi from Mama Knows It All, challenges us all every year to share our depression stories as part of her annual #DayOfLight. I usually ignore her. I mean, for real, no one wants to hear that shit. I’m not depressed. I’m happy. I sparkle, dammit. That’s what you need to hear, that’s what I need to tell you. I’m happy. I’m always effing happy. Always.

Sort of.

I allude to my depression I guess when I tell you of my marital or parenting woes. But  I never tell you about the deep issues. I should tell you about the deep issues. I should be honest with you. I’ve been dealing with depression for years. YEARS. It sucks. I suck, I guess, because I hide it.

Let’s go back. I was a happy child. I’ve had a good life. My parents provided, they were happy-ish. Life was good-ish. I’ll never blame them for what ails me, I’m my own worst enemy. When I grew up, life got real, y’all. Life got tough. I didn’t do well at life at first.

I had baby #1. I was a young mom with a baby that I adored, but she had a really bad dad and I had a really bad husband. He beat me. He beat me hard. He beat me a lot. I mean, I needed to be kept in my place. I got it. But we were a beautiful family…to the outside world. It was great. I had a second baby, she was goreous too, life was good…until he pushed me down the stairs while I was holding her.

I left. I’m glad I left. I was never happy then, never happy with him. Never. But here I was a young, single mom of 2 girls and I really wasn’t sure what to do. I knew we’d make it, but I was losing control of my emotions and fears. I didn’t like it.

I went to my doctor. He was awesome. Seriously, an awesome and understanding doctor. You couldn’t ask for more. I asked him why I had been crying so much. Why had I been so non-productive? Why couldn’t I wrap my head around anything anymore? I’d taken control. I’d left the cancer. WHY wasn’t I OK? Then the question came.

Have you ever thought of hurting yourself or your girls?

Pause. Such a long pause. Like 30 minutes in my head. He said it was only 30 seconds.

NO, I’ve never thought of hurting my girls. Ever. NO!!!

Yourself?

Pause. Looong pause. Actually my pause would have been indefinite if he hadn’t have spoken up. He had to break the silence. He was uncomfortable with my silence. I guess I was too so I’m thankful he spoke so that I didn’t have to.

He prescribed heavy mediation. Super heavy medication. He said that pause scared him. I agreed then that I had a problem, I got on the medication, and went into counseling.

I’m not on medication anymore. I guess the insurance ran out. I guess I felt like I didn’t need it anymore. I guess I’m an idiot. There are days when I don’t know how I function. There are days when I don’t know what to do. There are days when I feel that my family would probably be better off without me because I suck that much. Then I give myself a reality check, I realize that I am good enough, and I move right along. They need me. I’ll be OK.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t “fake” sparkle. I don’t “fake” being happy. For the most part, I am happy. I have a good life, I have a wonderful husband despite our problems (we’re married, y’all, we fight, it’s normal), I have lovely children even when they’re driving me nuts, and I have a job that challenges me that I truly love. But, sometimes, more often than I let on, that beast inside of me, the one that constantly nags at me and tells me I’m just not good enough, gets the best of me. When someone makes me feel like I’m not enough, it completely takes over and I slip into my own little world, the one where the beast rules and I’m not good enough. That’s the dark place that I hide, the place that hurts me, the place that hurts my family and my relationships.

There are days when I know I’m broken and need to be on medication again. And there are days that I feel great and I know I’m just fine and in my happy place. It’s weird. That’s how this works for a lot of people.

We all struggle. We all fight. Some of us hide in the darkness, alone with our desperate thoughts. Some of us shine as an example for others, sometimes just shining to please others. I hide alone. I shine in public. I’m scared of the dark. I’m scared of what others will think of me if they realize that I don’t sparkle all of the time.

I’m just always scared that one day that place will completely take over. Scared and alone, yet hopeful and shining surrounded by loved ones all at the same time. It’s weird. It’s contradictory, but that’s my story.

My Baby Girl Is Broken and I Can’t Fix Her Alone

learning disabilities, parenting, discipline

A while back I made a bold stand and explained that my baby girl was different. She’s a societal square peg being shoved into a round hole. I stand by that. She doesn’t fit any mold and I celebrate her uniqueness and I support her no matter what. She’s my baby. That’s my job. I love her unconditionally, and I always will. But lately, she’s been trying that unconditional love theory. She’s been trying it for 6 years in fact and I’m beginning to think that I can’t tackle these issues alone.

She’s a bright girl. She was in the GT (gifted and talented) program at school until earlier this year when I pulled her and moved her to a different school. She’s no dummy. At. All. She’s intelligent, beautiful, and she amazes me every day. But she’s broken and I’m afraid I can’t fix her alone.

I have to be honest with you because honesty is important to me. At times, she’s just bad. She doesn’t mean to be. I know she doesn’t. But she pitches fits (like frightening fits), she talks back, she’s always right, she’s mean to her brother and I (think bully here), and she steals. The stealing is what has me concerned about her broken state because now she’s endangering herself and it scares me. She’s been stealing from our house ever since she learned this “trade” from her half sister 2 years ago when she lived with us. She steals little trinkets, unimportant stuff, but she also steals food.

She’s not hungry. She gets breakfast at home before school, sometimes she eats a second breakfast at school, then a snack and lunch I pack for her at school, a snack when she gets home, then dinner. She’s not hungry, yet she steals food. I buy snack cakes and fruit snacks weekly to put in their lunches. One sweet snack per day. That’s what they get. But the other night, my baby girl ate a whole pack of oatmeal creme pies while we slept, at 2:00 am I would guess. She’s eaten B’s Atkins Bars. She’s downed whole boxes of fruit snacks. I’m worried what she will steal and eat next.

When you ask her what, WHY, she just looks at you and rolls her eyes, and says nothing. She knows it’s wrong, but she continues to do it. What’s next? What will she steal that will hurt her? A mother’s worst fear. And so I’ve moved on to the next phase. I don’t want to, will not, shove her in that round hole, but I will protect her no matter what.

We went to the counselor at school, that was a bust. I talked to a counselor that was recommended by the school. That didn’t go well in my head. They recommended the “m” word until we can break through. Medication. I’ve thought about it a lot. I don’t want to medicate her, but I don’t want her to hurt herself sometime while I’m in the bathroom trying to pee, while I’m outside with the dog, while I try to sleep my 4 hours per night. I want her safe. So I’m considering the “m” word and although B doesn’t want it, he said he won’t fight. That’s his baby girl, he wants her safe, he acknowledges the problems.

I ran this by my closest friends the other day and one of them said something that hit home. “She’s sick and you’re taking her to the doctor to get better. Don’t worry about what type of sick or type of doctor.” And she was right. My baby is broken and she needs to get well.

I’m not talking about any kind of spectrum here. She’s not on any spectrum. She’s brilliant when she puts her mind to it, but she’s sick and she needs to get well. Wish us well. Pray for us if that’s what you do. Know that I know that medication is NOT the answer to everything. Know that I KNOW that my square peg should be allowed to be different. But know that I KNOW that my square peg has hit a road block and she’s endangering herself. KNOW that my only intention is trying to figure out how to fix my baby so that she can be the healthy square peg she was meant to be. And know that I KNOW she, we, will get through this phase and I still think (KNOW) she will make a difference in this world.

She’s amazing, she’s beautiful, she’s different, and right now…she’s broken. We’ll fix this. I know we’ll fix this.