I love my life. I love being a wife and mom. I am so grateful to be able to stay home with our kids. And I’m glad we have made the decision to educate our kids at home. I’m also thankful for the opportunity to work from home and contribute financially to our family (and exercise my pre-kid, working brain). But it’s hard, y’all.
There are days I feel productive, things get done, and the kids even wear something besides pajamas. At home. We get our school work done, and even manage to play a game as a family without meltdowns.
Other days, well, Honor pours her own cereal (all over the table…and the floor), then dumps a dozen eggs into my grocery cart (bright side – she only busted two of them), and while I’m cooking dinner, throws a chair down the stairs, gashing the wood floor. (Yes, that all happened in the same day. For real.)
I don’t expect life to be easy. And things worth doing usually aren’t. But the past few months have been a real challenge. As soon as I feel like things are under control just a little bit, it all comes unraveled. I miss blogging regularly and the outlet it provides, but honestly, by the time I get a chance to sit down to write, I’m completely spent. My body is tired and my brain can’t form a complete thought, much less put one to paper (or keyboard). I don’t know how many posts I’ve started and couldn’t finish. Twitter seems much more my speed these days, not because I don’t like the blog, but because I don’t seem to be able to think in much more than 140 characters at a time. And that’s not my favorite. When things are crazy, something has to give, and it’s usually the blog.
I’m not complaining. Or at least, I’m not trying to. I wouldn’t trade my people or life for anything. I might, however, pay big bucks for a couple of nights of uninterrupted sleep. And a kid who just poops in the potty already.