I am constantly falling behind.
I am always forgetting something.
I’ve sought an ADD diagnosis and taken meds — things got better, but stuff still slips through the cracks.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I can do two things well at any given time, but I always have at least three things that need to be done. The most pressing issues are taking care of my family, taking care of my job, and taking care of my home. I shuffle those three around, always trying to prioritize family. Once in a while, I let myself take precedence, but when a ball drops (which it inevitably does), I scold myself and try to put out the fires.
The “baby” turned two in March. Just in the last six weeks, he has entered “The Terrible Two’s.” I used to be able to bring him everywhere with me and as long as he was able to cuddle with Mom, he was fine. But now he is a stubborn S.O.B. and taking him anywhere means endless compromise; moving at a snail’s pace, and absurd arguments and conversations voiced very loudly because he doesn’t understand ‘inside voices’ yet.
I tell myself, “It will get better,” because I’m an optimist. But in cynical moments like this, I feel like I’ve always been saying that, and it is just another excuse for failure.
When we were geographically separated from my family, I said it would would better once we were all nearby one another again. When I was pregnant with Baby No. 4, I said it would be easier when I wasn’t pregnant. When I was breastfeeding the baby, I said it would be easier once he was weaned. Once he was weaned, I talked about how he would start to sleep on his own be less dependent on me…but I haven’t quit co-sleeping and he is such a great snuggle-buddy, I don’t know when I will! LOL =/
I am currently pinning my hopes and dreams on next fall when 3 out of 4 kids will be in school (albeit the 4 year old will only go half days — God bless FL for offering free VPK!), it feels like a huge victory to have the majority of children out of the house for free for any number of hours. At that time, the “baby” will be about 2.5, and God-willing (who am I kidding? I don’t put any faith in “God,” but hope I will find the balls to make him sleep by himself), will be in his own room – or sharing with his big bro (the 4 y/o).
Meanwhile, every time something falls through the cracks, whether it’s a missed deadline for work, or a forgotten familial obligation, or just seeing a fucking bug in the house because I haven’t mopped in three weeks, I keep telling myself, “It’s just a phase!”
Am I delusional? (If the answer is “Yes,” I don’t wanna know…)