Collaborative Chaos

Exhaustion, is this an emotion? I suppose not. More like a state of being. Well, be it what it may, I am exhausted. Jonathan has been gone since Sunday and being alone with the kids is starting to show a little wear and tear on my nerves. Yesterday I was under the misguided impression that going out to town would be a fun day with the kids. Instead it consisted of wal-mart meltdowns, shopping cart screaming, and restaurant madness. And after chasing the kids, trying to control the tantrums, and putting up with the normal "glares" of society, I was ready to come home and admit defeat. Only to wake up this morning and drag the kids to yet another "family adventure" to the local corn farm for a hayride. I'll admit the first half was fun, but after the previous day of missing naps, Selah chose to be un-cooperative and the rest was a simple case of survival. Her screams could have awakened the dead. And I was once again at the disadvantage. A million eyes watching me, no-where to go and deal with her, we just had to move on. Needless to say, the second that hayride reached the parking lot, we were out of there.

The funny thing is that I know that parents look at us with a mixture of sympathy, shock, and disgust that we have our kids so close together (I think they think we deserve it or something :) and I wish they could see my children at home. In their own habitat, they really are quite good. They play nicely, and sleep well, and smile and talk and putter and (wonder of wonders) even obey me. It is only when I attempt to leave its sanctuary that they "punish" me (or at least that's what it feels like). On the days that I drag them out because I am feeling anxious for a good visit, I don't blame them. I am being somewhat selfish, and I suppose I deserve it. But on the days when I do something for them, and plan and prepare and try so hard to give them a fun day... when those days turn on me, I come home and just want to cry. I know I shouldn't take it personally, but it is though I have carefully wrapped a present and they take one look at it and throw it back in my face with as much gusto as they can muster. I feel defeated, like a failure, and so disappointed as though it is my fault that they didn't have fun.

Maybe I should never leave my house! I joke that I shouldn't. If you look at our family 'track-record' it clearly proves that we were never meant to. But it only lasts a few days before I once again feel anxious to do something. So I leave in a state of denial, thinking maybe this time will be different. And you know, one time in ten it is different. We have a good day and it gives me a false hope for the future.

I suppose the reality is that I know it is easier to stay home, yet it will never hold me back. I can't sit in my house forever, I crave change... and get me stir-crazy enough and it really is worth it to put up with the tantrums, if only for a quick coffee and 5 minute conversation with someone over 2 feet tall! I guess on days like these, I need my dad to tell me to "buck up" and "stop feeling sorry for myself" because this is life. And it is crazy, and stressful, and it isn't easy... but how could you appreciate it otherwise????