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I haven’t been on here recently. It’s been a difficult time. I have the stay-at-home-mom blues. At least that’s what I’ve decided to call them.
It’s that feeling that what you do doesn’t really matter. Someone else could step into my place and do everything I do without much difference. Anyone can make bacon in the microwave or cook slightly burnt pancakes. In fact, someone else may make pancakes that take eggs and oil instead of just water. So they would do it BETTER.
I know I’m not the only one to get into this groove occasionally. I think everyone has a trigger. I have two.
1) Occasionally, about every couple of months, I’m actually told that my life is not as important as others’ and I should change my schedule to fit others’ better. If I do not change my schedule of unimportant things or change how I parent, I am a selfish, selfish person.
2) I go to a continuing law class for me or some dental conference for my husband and I am completely non-existent.
I usually turn #2 into a game. People have to be fairly narrow minded to not be able to talk to a spouse about anything but their profession. There is a rather wide range of topics out there ready to be discussed in this wide, wide world. The app Trivia Crack is proof. Of course if these topics are not found in Entertainment Weekly, I can’t really be bothered; but I never said I was not one of the narrow minded folk.
#1 is a little harder. I don’t know if my schedule is that important. I try to be available if a teacher or child needs me. I try to keep the house running and organized, but who couldn’t do this instead of me? If I don’t over-extend or do things I hate/feel I can’t do, am I selfish? What are the measures for these things?
Is the person saying these things to me truly the selfish one?
Hard to know.
I’m doing my best to snap out of it and realize my small, little life has some meaning. It’s not always easy.
Like today. I decided to be mother of the year and make my kids cookies for their day off of school. Except they were the ready bake kind. And I burnt half of them because the top oven of my double oven doesn’t cook evenly. Then I ate the four that were left undercooked because I COULD NOT BELIEVE I failed at ready bake cookies.
Swimming sounded like a good plan next. Endorphins always help. Until I started to get incredibly nauseous with a killer headache because I’d completely forgotten to eat breakfast and being pregnant and swimming 800 meters on 4 semi-raw cookies does not cut it.
But there is still hope.
There’s an 80% chance that when I order pizza for dinner tonight, one of the two pizzas will be enjoyed. And the other will be eaten in my bed at midnight while watching Hart of Dixie reruns. I’d invite you, but 80% is still kinda risky. Best to test the odds on my own and instead invite you to lunch next week.
After all. There’s nothing on my schedule important enough I can’t move.