Comes paralysis. Five suitcases sit in my foyer, still packed with dirty clothes, including the vomit stained white capris (of course it had to be the white capris) from our drive to the Orlando airport. Miss D. sure knows how to kick off a long day of departure from the Most Exhausting Place on Earth.
I need to do laundry. I need to shop for food. I need to write something witty. I need to clean out Skipper the guppy's bowl. I need to load the dishwasher. I need to pay attention to my exhausted and whiny children. I need to give my husband some action because God knows he didn't get any on this vacation. I need to exercise--badly. I need to clean the cat vomit on the carpet in the basement. And clean out the cat box, too. I need to make a snack for Minxette now or else she's going to pass out from hunger, apparently.
I need three glasses of wine and a corner to curl up in so I can suck my thumb. In the fetal position.
Dear God, how do those Supermommies do it? The ones who take their kids to the park and actually play with them, the ones who have shorts on sans popsicle/dirt/vomit stains, the ones with lipstick applied and hair combed--clean hair, I might add. The ones who can get through the day without screaming, the ones who don't resent the constant neediness in the world, the ones who always have a vehicle with half a tank of gas in it?
Those Supermommies suck. I struggle to be Basic-Needs-Met Mommy, and even on a good day I just barely squeeze through. My report card forever reads: Partially Proficient. I am C- Mommy.
My children turned into pint-sized wolverines many times on our Disney trip, but Mommy fared even worse. Mommy was a hairy, red-eyed, venom-squirting savage by day 3. Nobody liked me much and I liked myself even less, which is why I'm a puddle of exhaustion and nerves and vacation letdown at the moment.
But the girls want to go swimming this afternoon and I owe them some not-feral-mommy time, so those suitcases are staying in my foyer today. Vomit ridden and all. I do believe they'll still be there, waiting patiently for me. Tomorrow is another day.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
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It's painful to me that I try so hard, SO HARD, to get through the day with more than a C-, and that by mid-afternoon I'm so exhausted and pissy from trying so hard that I crack, and yell or cry or yell and cry, and the day snks down to a D- because, goddman it, even normal Mommies can play with their kids without making it seem so...hard.
ReplyDeleteugh.
Re-entry is never easy. At least you all made it back without breaking any limbs or loosing anyone! In my mind that's the sign of a successful trip =).
ReplyDeleteThere is NOTHING worse than unpacking from a trip. Welcome back, though!
ReplyDeleteCheers . . . From one "good enough" mommy to another. But that said, just the fact that you went to Disney right after a trip to Greece, and now you aren't even unpacked and you're going swimming? I think you are selling yourself short, my dear. You sure sound superhuman to me.
ReplyDeleteI'm a C- Mommy, too. And unlike naptimewriting, I don't even try that hard.
ReplyDeleteBut here's my rationalization. I'm growing independent kids. Resourceful kids. Tough kids. Bootstrap kids.
Not sure if it's true, but it gets me though the day.
Oh honey, welcome home. Here is your wine. Here is your quiet time. Here is a snuggly blankie. Here is some cake. ((((KW))))
ReplyDeleteDo you think those Supermommies really exist? If so, I hate them. Welcome back!
ReplyDelete"Re-entry"--I like that term!
ReplyDeleteThanks for the support and the welcome-backs! I swear, I'm not going ANYWHERE except the grocery store for 2 months.
By the way, naptime, you are always at the exact spot in my crazy brain that comforts me. That's probably piss-poor praise, but it's nice to know that someone is "with ya."
ReplyDelete