Snuggled up with my daughter under the covers, lying with my eyes closed, planning all the things I wanted to accomplish today. A wide open day in front of me and I wanted to make it one with purpose, for me anyway.
I have work on my desk I need to get through, that I have been unsuccessfully trying to complete for days. I feel a constant tug of guilt because people are waiting for me and my work projects, and I seem to never get two minutes to string a thought together and get it done. I also want to write and pursue my dreams, and accomplish the things on my personal list. I also have a family vacation to plan, leaving in 6 days without hotel reservations or an idea of what we will be doing to entertain the kids. So I was thrilled at the thought of having a whole day, no camp, no therapy, no driving to and fro.
But I still couldn’t get out of bed. Bed was my safe place where it was all in front of me. In bed I could visualize it actually happening and feel that peace that comes with completing something that has been nagging at you. But eventually you have to get up – and actually make the rain. Make it happen. That’s when it all falls to pieces on me too.
The minute I get up I am barraged. Mom, can I have bagel dogs for breakfast?, Mom, can you make lemonade?, Mom, can I have a scissors?, Mom, I have to go to the bathroom, Mom, how do you spell Family Vacation?, Mom, what animals do they have at the zoo?, Mom, how do you spell each animal (painfully slow)?, Mom, can I have cinnamon toast?, Mom, can you find me lined paper to make a book?, Mom, I have to go to the bathroom again. Literally, line for line, that was what I got out of bed for. In a matter of 45 minutes I had made three different breakfasts, taken two kids to the bathroom, facilitated art projects, spelled words, broken up a fight, and done about fifty other things specifically for my three kids. I wanted to cry. Yesterday I did cry. Shea had said my name so many times, I think I counted fifty when she was in the bathroom playing water balloons in the shower, that Mom had become a four letter word. I could not take hearing it one more time. I thought I was going to explode.
I had high hopes for my Sunday. Coffee and the paper, into my office for some real work, writing, maybe a nap. None of it is coming true for me. My husband is on a fishing trip and so I am solo for the weekend. My body hurts from lifting my daughter and running all over with them, and transferring her from bed to bathroom and in and out of car. My head is fuzzy. I feel like maybe all I have brain cells left for is laundry and dish washer loading right now. I may cry again.
And then to top things off on this truly beautiful Sunday morning, there is NO COFFEE !!! I have no coffee in this house, and believe me I have looked. How can there be no coffee? No wonder I am fuzzy. If my husband were home I could run out and get some, but now in order to have that sacred cup I have to load three kids, one with CP and a walker, in and out of my car and drive to find coffee. Now I am definitely going to cry!