Thursday, October 2, 2008
Has anyone else seen a degree of repetitiveness to the craziness of life? I say this as I am sitting here trying to relax away the pain, in my messy house, being made even more messy by my 3 little girls and one little neighbor girl. Crazy because...well, I guess you have to be here as they run around screaming like banshees and crying every few minutes when somebody trips over someone else or falls off of the chair they are not supposed to be standing on. Or gets bitten by the dog who really does not want to play. I just can't wrap my head around the same old pain that encompasses me amid the changing craziness of my little girls. It is so hard for me, as a wife and mother to have this affliction that wracks and attacks my body in some kind of an increment from moderate to severely severe everyday and not be able to do anything about it. If there is anyone out there listening, this is where I am going to pour out my soul. And it ain't pretty. I feel like I am the only woman in the world who wanted a family more than anything, thought she was going to be the most awesome mother ever, and when she finally got all that she ever wanted...felt like the biggest failure in the whole world. How would you feel if all you could do everyday was tolerate the pain through medicated haziness. No playing with your kids, doing things with them, taking them places. Whenever mommy leaves, my girls say, "Mommy go to da doctor?" That's the only place I ever go. And as no fun mommy lays on the couch watching t.v. and feeling like the most slothful person on the face of the earth, my daughter crawls up to my lap, caresses my tummy and says, "Mommy ouchie tummy?" Because, yes, she knows mommies tummy is always ouchie. My husband comes home from working hard all day, and unlike every other wonderful husband in the world, has to wade through toys, trash, dishes, and whatever else happens to be lying on the floor to get to his kids who aren't dressed and look like they are orphans from off of the street. I listen as my mother tells me that if people where to come into my house they would call social services and take my children away....and this is just a few of the things that I repetitively go through every day. So, when I make it through one more day relatively unscathed, my house isn't in entire ruins, my girls are at least fed, and diapered properly, just not dressed and my babies are still here with me, though I may barely be with them because of the pain and I have kept myself from sinking into a total and complete depressive state....that is what I call my repetitive and crazy day! Welcome to life!