The need to understand

My post from the other day had some people worried. Well, that worry sent me through multiple feelings rather quickly. First a little shock that they ever came to my blog. No, that’s fine, I just didn’t know if they did or not. Well, I thought so, but not sure. Then the reality that there was concern enough to call me to check on my sanity. Was I really going crazy? NO, of course not. I just had a really, really bad day and I can’t do it alone and I certainly can’t stay in this hole of a life we live. So a bad day combined with solitary confinement and throw in some hormonal surges and it’s all like trying to mix oil and water. I wasn’t hitting children. I wasn’t screaming at them. I didn’t lock anyone in a closet (although I did send them all outside to play so I could have some quiet from that day’s chaos). This, this blog, is my outlet, my venting, my ears, my shoulder, my punching bag, my support.
Does this blog replace my God, my Savior? NO! Just because I don’t have a typical preacher’s wife’s blog (all about God and teaching the Bible like I am ’supposed to’) doesn’t mean he’s not in my life. I couldn’t do anything in my life without Him as a part of it. Just because I married a man who went through seminary and is ordained doesn’t meant than I know all he does because I sleep with him. Osmosis doesn’t work like that. Maybe I am a preacher’s wife, but I am a person too. I am not defined by being the wife of a preacher. I am a woman. I am a wife. I am a lover. I am a mother. I am a friend. I am a teacher. I am a chauffeur. I am a doctor. I am a therapist. I am a judge. I am many things. I am . . .

me.

This blog: It is a means to reach out to others, for them and for me. This world is so large and so small at the same time. This world is so large that I live in this tiny little town with no friends of commonality and the feeling of living alone and tiny. We are here alone: no supper buddies or groups, no one our ages with which to share our lives. I miss my Tuesday lunch with my best friend I left back in Hattiesburg. I miss the occasional use of Mothers’ Day Out so I could get some errands run. I miss the ability to leave my house and have somewhere to go. But look how small this world is. I’ve made so many friends across this world through this blog and other blogs that it seems sometimes I can reach out and hold their hand. Incredible actually. And very reassuring at times. I know I’m not the only one who gets frustrated, but when I feel it sometimes I forget and then I write, or cry, to feel better. I’m reminded that every mother feels these things on some level at some time in her life. These things are not new because I feel them. And I feel big again and strong again and refreshed (a little) again.

So as that little ditty a few days ago was titled ‘I don’t want this anymore’ didn’t mean that I didn’t want motherhood or life anymore. What do I not want anymore? Well, here it is more simply put (without the hormones or the bad day):

• the laundry - there is so much of it and it can only grow as the children do.
• the cleaning - I feel guilty for doing things with my children when the house is such a wreck, then I feel guilty for cleaning instead of spending time with the children. I want help with the laundry and the housecleaning so I can spend time with my children and my work.
• school - it’s actually going really well, I was just feeling a lot of pressure because of outside comments and recent threats.
• working from home - I like this, it keeps me with my children and the children with me. It’s the best of both worlds and sometimes the worst - oh. so. busy.
• I worry so much about our little Princerella. She’s gone so long without enough therapy because of lack of money and insurance and medical help. Getting her what she needs has been a daily battle for me and knowing how much she has missed out on because of our situation. I get really angry when I think about it and have a hard time sorting through it properly.
• more than all of that - I’m sick of the familial attacks on us and our children. I want them to just. leave. us. alone.

So what? Right? This is my life, so deal. Right? Well, sort of. There are things I can do to help me and my family. One would think that after all we’ve been through that I could accept change a little better now, but, uhm, nope - it’s still hard. I tend to want things my way, change needs to ask me first. Change needs to get my permission and do things my way. See, I have this terrible need to have things done my way, the right way. I guess this need would actually be properly called sin. Maybe - on some level, yes. But what about the level of need to know that we, as wives and mothers, are supposed to manage the household? Whether that’s with help or without, whether we work outside of the home or only in the home, it’s our job to manage the house. My husband helps more than any of you could ever know. He changes diapers (doesn’t like to, but does), he cooks (he love to), he loads the dishwasher, he helps with the schooling when I need him to (he likes this). And there is that guilt again - why does he help? Because I need him to. It’s ok and I am actually getting past this need to have it all done the right way, my way, by myself. I don’t need to do it all for them. And that is what is the hardest. Letting them do it. It’s faster for me to do it than it is to teach them. It’s faster for me to do it than to explain it. It’s easier for me to do it than to teach it or explain it. I’m learning to let go. I’m learning to show them how. I’m learning to tell them why I want it a certain way. I’m learning. And maybe I’m not as good at learning new tricks as I should be. You can teach an old dog new tricks, the old dog just learns slower.

But don’t anyone, ever, put the flour on the same shelf in the pantry with the cereal and prepared foods - it. just. doesn’t. go. there.

This is what was outside my open office window today:

She just told me she had “tired hair”.