Lately I've been handling most of the homefront “stuff” on my own. With four small kids from age seven to one, there's really never a dull moment. My hardworking husband has been pulling some hideous hours at the office both during the week and on the weekends for close to a month I guess now. Of course even with him basically gone a good chunk of the time, life still moves on at it's frustratingly quick pace. All the things that he normally does are noticably undone and I figure out more and more each day just how spoiled I really am.
After a dissappointing call yesterday informing me that this weekend would be a “work weekend” too, I realized it would at least be another week and a half before the lawn was mowed again. It had already been several weeks as it was. The weeds were the real issue since they haven't started dying from the treatment done a few weeks ago. I decide we could use the fresh air (and a break from our homeschool schedule) so I lay the baby down for her morning nap and take the other three outside. I'm going to mow the lawn! Of course, I've never mowed the lawn before lol. I take the mower (NOT self propelled) into the backyard for a “trial run”. No need to look like an idiot in front of the neighbors on my first try right? Well, it seemed much easier than expected (after calling DH to find out why the stupid machine wasn't starting when I pulled the cord). So, we moved to the front yard after mowing a tiny patch of the backyard. If we were going to run out of gas I really didn't want it to be before I got the front yard done.
I was feeling all strong and glad that I was getting this done. I had to stop occassionally to comfort our two year old who kept falling and scrapping her knees on the sidewalk while playing, but other than that, things were going rather smoothly. I finished the front yard and moved to the back. Even had to add gas and was still going strong. About the time I finished though, my arms were aching and my eyes were almost swelled shut. You see, I have miserable allergies and had obviously gone out there without taking anything. I was sneezing and wheezing and ended up looking like an idiot anyway while putting all the stuff away in the garage. Once I got some Benedryl in me, I was doing much better. Mission accomplished!
Fast forward to that evening when we all had to start getting ready for a “make up” baseball game. I was so proud of myself for having everyone fed, dressed, gear packed and at the field with 15 minutes till game time. It was quite chilly and I thought I had prepared enough for it. I even remembered to take a roll of tissue and eye drops for my allergies (learned from the mowing experience). We walk all the way out to the field (no short jaunt) and I don't see any of his team mates. We're cold and so I call DH to find out if I'm at the wrong field. Nope, right field, wrong game time!!! ACK!!! We had 45 minutes till the game was to start. There was no way I wanted to keep the kids out in that weather that long and then sit out for the game too so we headed ALLLLLLL the way back to the van. On the way there, the baby is tossing items out of the diaper bag onto the parking lot and my tissue goes rolling out everywhere. I chase that down and get everything put back in and we get to the van. “Keys.....where are my keys? Have you kids seen my keys?” Frantically searching, tears begin to well up in my eyes, “NO, no, I can't have lost my keys” (sobbing now on my knees in the middle of the parking lot).
Back to the field we go hoping we can find them. Sure enough, a little girl had picked them up and had them when we got all the way back out there. HUGE sigh of relief. But now there isn't time to walk all the way back to the van because one of the coaches has showed up and says they are going to practice a bit before the game. When the game started the three youngest and I were so cold. The baby was grumpy because it was past her bedtime. I was growing increasingly tired and frustrated and about an hour and 15 after the game began it finally came to a close, snacks were passed out, things gathered, then back to the van we go. Every step I felt more and more down, depleated and even somewhat angry. Once everyone was settled into the van the kids kept asking for this and for that, “can we have another snack”, “can we go by McDonalds” and on and on and then I snapped at them, “NO - we are going home and we are going to bed!” Four sets of eyes looked at me, each one sad, somewhat tired themselves and I knew they were looking to me for some kind of answer.
“I'm sorry kids, I'm so sorry I raised my voice like that. Mommy is so tired and I miss daddy so much....”(more tears). My 5 year old begins to cry, “I miss daddy too.” “Me too”, pipes in a crying two year old.
On the drive home I began to think about comments friends with far fewer kids had made to me.
“You've got to be Super Mom.” “How do you do it all?” “Super Mom, that's what you are.”
The more I thought about those phrases the more I realized I'm not a “Super Mom”. I'm more like super irritated, super tired, super frustrated, super angry, super negative, super moody, super snappy, super fed-up, super lonely....
If being “super mom” means you have to do it all yourself, I don't want to be “super mom” because I don't like all the other “Supers” I become. Super moms are those dear women who have to face this every day with no end in sight. Those single mothers who run themselves ragged just trying to keep the gears oiled on this never stopping machine we call a family. At the very least I can be comforted in knowing that DH's project will come to a close at some point and the hours will return to normal. Somewhere down the road I'll get a break.....at least I hope so lol.