Goodnight Blues

Sometimes you just can't get a good picture....

Wow, am I feeling low tonight... I had hoped to title this post a little more positively - maybe after a glass of wine - but then that last thing happened, and it all went to hell. I am so tired of trying to do it all. I don't know what the answer is anymore, how to keep this working motherhood ship from going over the edge and into the falls. There are so many dynamics. It's not even the details anymore. It's that the major components aren't even in place to keep the whole gig from sliding down the drain.

I got home from work today to a house where everything was wrong. There was a lot of wailing and gnashing of teeth from the kids tonight, and a daddy working late to boot. They are all four bathed and sleeping now, and I'm too despondent to even feel a sense of accomplishment.

Mama said there'd be days like these.... only she didn't. Conventional wisdom tells you there will, but I really can't recall my mom ever telling me this.

Women have been mothering for centuries. There have always been challenges. I think the set of challenges today's mothers face can't come even close to the worst of times for mothers through the ages. We've got so many modern conveniences that make the sheer work of motherhood so much easier than it used to be. But we've got too much technology, too much desire for perfection, too much of a role society expects us to fill.

Working motherhood is for the birds. There are good days at work, good days at home and a whole lot of terrible days, where nothing jives, no one is happy and momma's candle is burnt all the way down on both ends.

I don't know what the answers are for me, but I'm not going to give up on finding them. I'm holding on to the few smiles I can remember tonight, the few moments where I wasn't feeling clobbered by the messy house, the mosquito I can't seem to find but who won't stop finding me, the kids that were acting out the way that I feel. And I'm hoping those kids, bad though they were, forget the yelling and grumpiness that was their mother.

I'm hoping I'll be back next time in a much better place. In the meantime, if you know of an awesome sitter who wants to watch my kiddos while I do the work "thang," give me a yell. 'Cause on top of everything else, the perfect one I had lined up just fell through. (And, of course, I understand. Our plates are ours to fill, and we can only guess at our limits.)

So goodnight, moon. Goodnight, you. Goodnight, overwhelmed. Goodnight blues.

Find Some Peace Tonight

One of the few photos of me since I became a mother of four....

Today was one of those days. I think it actually started last night. I was surfing a Web site with salary information for public employees. These weren't just any public employees. They were people I work with, know and love, in some cases, and in other cases, not so much. Let me tell you: the disparity in wages is just unbelievable.

I finally hauled myself off the Internet and into the shower, where I continued to think about how some people are paid far more than they are worth and how others never will be paid what they deserve. Because, really, aren't we all human beings? Don't we all bring something useful to the table?

And I've said it a hundred times in my life if I've said it once: I hate money. I hate how money makes people mean. How it prompts people to do things they shouldn't do and give up things they should never give up. How it defines us and how it divides us.

I often struggle with my status as a part-time working mother. I'm not a working mother in the way those that work full-time are working mothers. And I'm not a stay-at-home mother, since I'm gone from my house for ten-hour days three days a week to work. I'm in the middle. And while I would love to make more money, I do believe I have the best of both worlds.

But as the Sarah McLachlan song goes, There's always some reason / To feel not good enough / And it's hard at the end of the day. I think that's where I started this bad day, in thinking, while toweling off after my shower last night, that my salary was somehow subpar, that if I could just muster up the energy, the drive, the gumption to bite the bullet and go full-time, we might just realize our dream of moving to the country. That the kids could run and play outside in their own trees and on their own acreage and that they could finally have the pets they want.

So I went to bed in a funky mindset. Thankfully, I was smart enough to know it. I started to craft a prayer to make myself feel better and bring myself back into the happy place of gratitude. "Dear Lord, thank you for this husband, this good man, lying to my left, snoring. Some military women don't get to hear their husband's snore for months at a time. Thank you for this healthy baby snoozing in his bassinet to my right. Some babies aren't so healthy. Thank you for my kids sleeping peacefully in their beds. Some kids don't have safe, warm places to sleep..." And it helped.

Alas, I still woke up today to rain and gray skies both inside and out. It was a day for napping on the couch, for giving in to gloom, for being a quitter. But I couldn't be a quitter, because I am a mother.

So I struggled through my blues, and it wasn't pretty. I had a fight with Max and needed hot tea for my sore throat because I yelled at him so loud. What is wrong with me? I nursed and cajoled a baby to sleep about eight times, only to have his older brother Colby shriek so much that he woke him right back up at least half of those times. My bad mood seeped into Lily, who was a bull all afternoon.

And now, hours after the kids have gone to bed, my head is still pounding.

But I know there will be days like these. It's one of the tough things about my job as a mother. The one that doesn't pay in dollars, but in hugs, kisses, heart swells and pride. The one job I know I am meant to do.

While I am not paid what I might be worth, I value motherhood. I know there are so many of you in my shoes. I get you. I appreciate the job you do in trying to raise kids that will be a part of a better society. We should all be millionaires. In the ways that matter, we already are.

Elevating the status of mothers everywhere starts with us. We have to value our work and each other and get this done.

May you find some comfort here.

Pondering in My Silence

A pretty nature shot from Lake Tweet to help liven up my melancholy post...

So sorry, dears; I've been quiet lately. In high school, I coined the quote, "We're not quiet, we've just given up." And I guess that's true for me right now to a point, but I've also been operating under the intelligent, motherly advice of "If you don't have something nice to say, don't say anything at all."

I have been feeling some downer pregnancy hormones, I guess. Those, combined with the sheer workload of my life this past weekend, just beat me into silence. (Shrek ditched me again.)

And, I'm still not out of it. But I'm checking in.

I'm pondering a lot of things right now, just one of which is what it takes to be a good parent. How do we teach our children to be happy with what they have? That they won't be happy if they are always wanting what they don't have or wanting more, more, more? As a society, we Americans are guilty of this. And, of course, our kids see it and emulate.

I like my house, but I'd like to stick it about five miles southwest into old family farmland. I'm happy with my vehicle, but would definitely trade it in for the 2010 model, if I could. I'm guilty of wanting more than what I have in nearly every area of my life. But it's a great life!

So.. how to balance self/self desires and still be a good example for my children? I'm working on it.

In the meantime, I'm going to help myself to not feel lonely by getting myself to bed, where my husband is sleeping. And later this week, I'll be clear out of this funk and into Jambo mode.

But sometimes, especially when the rains come, a little quiet isn't such a bad thing.

Keep Calm and Carry On

So I mentioned I'd had a rough month in May. I can't really tell you why; it was just one of those times in my life where there was a lot going on, the blues kept sucking me down, and I couldn't find the time to take care of myself, to be gentle with myself ... to even be by myself very much at all.

One day, as I was walking down Court Street in Athens on my lunch break, I saw this poster hanging in a store window. I'd seen this poster in a picture on one of my favorite blogs, www.nieniedialogues.com. With funds low but my interest piqued, I marched into the place and bought one of these beauties. It now dances around the various walls of my office. I can't seem to figure out where it belongs, but it does belong.

(The history of this poster is as striking as its simple design. It was produced, but never used, in 1939 by the British government at the start of World War II as a "last resort" in the event of a Nazi invasion.)

My wise junior high English teacher, Mrs. Gretchen Montgomery, once told my parents in a parent-teacher conference, "Erin sometimes gets a black cloud over her head, but we know if we leave her alone, she pulls out of it."

It's true. I've always been a bit arrogant in the way I believe that no one can help me but myself. I'm independent and headstrong to a fault. I take care of people, and I don't let them take care of me--even when I am in need of care. One of the many drawbacks of this is that people around me get used to this and quit trying.

But what I'm getting at is this: I was in more than a bit of a funk. And now, I'm out. The poster helped me, I helped myself, and, this time, I let some of you help me too.

Thank you.