I remember coming across a meme that said something like, “I’m not a night owl or an early bird. I’m a perpetually exhausted pigeon.”
6:15am: My alarm goes off.
I slowly and carefully extract myself from the bed, careful not to wake the toddler who has almost certainly ended up velcroed to my nipple at some point in the night. I tiptoe out of the room, stepping gingerly over the sleeping dog, who is blessedly deaf and does not notice what she does not feel.
I’m happy. That’s an unexpected feeling these days. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not constantly sad, I don’t think I’m depressed, and I’m not Rhiannon-downer. What I am is overwhelmed, at the end of my rope, and generally one step away from the edge of done. I’m drowning in that sea of obligation, and not doing anything particularly well.
Dear mom who is totally screwing up,
Today my five year old daughter screamed the whole way home because I would not buy her a pottery wheel.