Wednesday, January 8, 2014
Grey January Days
Oh, thats right...now I remember what January feels like.
I do believe I've already hit the January wall and its only January 8.
January is such a perfect storm. The Christmas come-down, the deep cold, the lack of light, the far away feeling of spring and warmth, the disappearance of big events to look forward to on the calendar, the bitter cold...oh wait...I said that already...I think it all adds up to putting me in a giant winter malaise.
Yesterday turned out to be a perfectly rotten day even when it had gotten off to such a promising start. We were up and running again at a decent time, school work got accomplished, dishes were washed, but somehow by 2 in the afternoon I was completely done. Done with the disciplining, the asking people to listen 500 times, the talking, the noise, the questions every five minutes, done. Done, done, done.
I pretty much lost it, I stormed out of my mom's house and put everyone to bed, unkind words were said, frustration won out. Then of course came the spiralling out of control of my thoughts. I start wondering if I have deep-seated unhappiness, if I'm doing everything wrong, if I'm living the wrong life, if we're living in the wrong place, if I'm drastically off-base in my daily routine. Then, a skewed look at reality; I've got five babies all under the age of reason and its impossible to go anywhere. Not only is it a million degrees below freezing out and requires hours of effort to get us all out the door by myself, but two of them can't walk on their own and/or need to be constantly supervised, the others need what feels like constant discipline and correction and guidance, and where would we even go? We live so far from civilization and/or real friends it becomes a day trip going out for a few hours. And let's not forget the baby who's still nursing.
One thing I'm not good at is imagining any other stage than the one me and my kids are currently in right this second. Maybe I'm just not goal oriented enough, or imaginative enough, or hopeful enough, but I can't possibly imagine a time when they'll all be able to dress themselves, or cross the street, or be able to stop fighting with each other for longer than 4 minutes. I mean, sure, eventually they'll become adults and hopefully have learned those things, maybe through some trial and error, and maybe some of them will move away to different cities so that I will no longer hear their bickering, but honestly, I just can't imagine what that would be like!
Then I start to wonder if this can all be solved and all should be solved. Maybe this is a symptom of things I'm doing wrong, of choices we've made that are all wrong. We should move somewhere with people. But that would mean moving away from my parents who are really the only ones I can call on whenever this stuff hits the fan, anytime, day in day out. Sure, friends would be nice, but would I constantly depend on them like my parents? Maybe I'm just way too co-dependent in the first place? Maybe I just need more gumption and energy and just get out of the house more? Even to the play groups nearby with people I have zero things in common with. Would that all be worth it? Would that somehow help me avoid these awful days?
I think I spiral into these crazy thoughts because most of the time I'm fairly even-keeled. Most of the time I don't mind everything even when the tough gets going. I find it very hard to believe that God would want me to completely change my life which 99.9% of the time goes amazingly well because of a couple bad days. I don't think he bullies us into things through discouragement and anxiety and freaking out. Actually in all of my experience of the things which were most certainly what God wanted, they were always there in the back of my mind in times of calmness and regularity.
But it is tough going. It's tough having five kids most of whom are very, very small and very, very dependent. I feel in dangerous stereotype territory when I can't get out of the house. I feel as if I'm right smack dab in the middle of the dreaded and awful life of motherhood that everyone is viciously and steadfastly terrified of and sworn to never have happen to them. The truth is that its not a horrible life but a horrible couple days. The truth of the matter, however, is that this may be my toughest winter. I may have to dig deep and just get through this one alive. This is the winter where I'm going to have a baby, a two year old, a four year old, a five year old and a six year old. By next winter everyone will be a year older and doing completely different things. Hopefully all my children will be independent movers! Maybe a seven year old will be able to help a three year old! Maybe I'll be able to leave them all for more than two hours! Maybe I'll even have the gift of perspective and marvel at my own survival skills - that is, if I make it out of this one alive.
facebook ~ instagram ~ pinterest