So, about this ‘doing it all’ business.

I’m in school, I’m working a bit, I’m a mother, we own a home, we all need to eat and I’m generally in charge of our budget. I am also supposed to be heading to the gym and getting my exercise, because I need to lose weight and be more fit.

Right now, it’s all crap.

All of it. It’s crap.

I have had a cold for several weeks now. I haven’t been to the gym since school started and I’m fairly certain I’ve gained more weight. Last night I was thinking about going to the gym and felt actual terror at the thought of having to start all over again, again.

The house is in a constant state of messy – sometimes we get one or two rooms clean, but there’s this pile of laundry in the kid’s room that should have been sorted two weeks ago. She says she still has clothes, so I’ll worry about it later.

I’ve bounced two payments this month because the money was in the wrong account. Two. The combination of our budget being tighter and me having less time to pay attention is not a good one.

The kid has been having a hell of a time falling asleep. She’s awake until past 9 pm, sometimes past 10 pm, because she can’t seem to just lie down and close her eyes. Part of me wants to stand next to her bed and stroke her forehead until she falls asleep, and part of me just wants her to do what she’s damn well told.

Every weekend is a struggle. I want to spend time with her, with my family, I want to cook and bake and play together, go for walks, have fun. But I also want to just shut myself in my office and get my work done because that’s what I’m always thinking that I should be doing when I’m doing something else.

I want to flash forward two years and have this all have been worth it, but my pessimistic self is stuck in the now where everything is hard and who knows what the actual outcome will be.

So for now I throw up my hands. That’s it. I can’t do it all. I can’t. Maybe someone else can handle with a smile on their face, their hair and makeup done. I’ll stick to the occasional afternoon nap, my yoga pants wardrobe and sporadic crying fits.

As long as she loves me and knows I love her, we’ll be okay.


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