And I am sitting here, at the computer.
I have a pint glass, full of diet soda and possibly quite a bit of bourbon.
Because I can.
It was quiet today, even though it was loud, louder, loudest.
The waking up!
And the gifts!
And the happy!
And the DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH MY _________ IT'S MINE I JUST GOT IT PLAY WITH YOUR OWN BRAND NEW _________.
Oy, and also vey.
I have reached a certain point with my short people.
A certain very critical point, possibly a crossroads of some sort, but who's to say, really?
Because more than anything, parenting well is about realizing you are at a point before you can even give a name or a purpose or a reason to the point.
I long to parent well, and I fear I do not.
Do you fear that, too? Because from where I am perched, right this very minute, I feel alone.
I look and I watch and I calculate and I plan and I judge and I watch some more and I try to figure it all out.
I feel like I have too many children to do a good job.
And this is not a life-long truth; it is not even close to being a good assessment of my life, our life.
Do you ever feel that way, too? Just once in a while, even?
Like you are in over your head, or you're soon about to be submerged by the requests and the needs and the I JUST WANT MY MAMA TO PLAY DINOS WITH MEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Because from where I am sitting, right here and now, I'm sinking.
They say it is a season, that things will not always be this way, but ohmygoodness. When does the upswing begin? And then they say, Heh. Well. Enjoy it now because it only gets worse. Who are these people whose lives suck more and more with each passing day, and why do I feel like I'm joining their club?
I celebrate holidays with a full-out contemplation of my responsibilities. I cannot explain it to you. I cannot explain it to me. I sat in my living room today amidst squeals of excitement and charming lovelies and warmth and full bellies and I feel... I feel...
I don't even know. Inadequate, I guess. And I hate inadequate more than anything. Because those four little people do not deserve inadequate. They don't deserve adequate, either, for that matter, and that I'm not even coming close to meeting the standard is causing my heart to hurt very much.
What's it doing to them?