I need to firstly apologise for all the doom and gloom posts that I’ve written lately.
But I’ll be honest. This has to be the toughest week of motherhood I’ve so far experienced.
And I write this not for sympathy or understanding. I just need to let it out in my own space here.
The stress. The anxiety. The sleep deprivation.
The friggin’ eye twitch…
It’s come to a point where I can’t articulate it to anyone. Not even my own husband.
Sometimes, I feel he’s even let me down this week.
Maybe, I just take things too personally.
The uglys of motherhood – perhaps I’m supposed to try and approach them with a smidgen of salt.
When two 17 month old toddlers are screaming in my ear, doing the back-arch and surfboard positions each time I try to carry them; When I’m trying to wipe the disgusting snot from their noses and its remnants in their hair without them throwing a major tantrum; When I’m trying to keep their surprisingly strong little bodies still on the change table; When they throw back their heads in protest in their high-chairs, screaming their lungs out, with food strewn all over the kitchen floor and walls…
Why does it all get to me ?
Or I guess, more to the point: Why do I let it all get to me ?
I’ve been going to bed before 9 for three nights straight. I can’t think of the last time I needed this much sleep. But it’s not a deep slumber the entire time. And curling up in bed so early in the evening with a hot water bottle isn’t even about the opportunity to get ample sleep anymore.
It’s the attempt to get some peace and quiet.
To give my body a break from all the stress it goes through during the day; To feel my chest fill with air instead of it feeling tight with anxiety; To stop my hands from shaking with nervous energy from all the crying in the background.
I know all this too shall pass, as the famous saying goes.
Still. It hasn’t stopped this bloody eye from twitching…