Let’s take a break from the insanity and return to the near-normalcy that is my life lately.
If you saw the Home page at any point, you can clearly see that I have little ones at home. I have older ones who live with their grandmother until I can really get my life together, but until then, it’s me and the little ones from Monday morning until Thursday afternoons. If I’m not at work, I am responsible for my kids, and if I don’t have the kids, I’m usually at work.
I usually shove 40-ish hours into the days I don’t have the boys. I’ve been doing that since before the pandemic. Actually, I was shoving about 60 hours into a 3.5 day weekend because I had two serving jobs. Needless to say when Monday rolls around, I am exhausted, but it’s right to mom duties when I wake up.
Let me take a moment right here and say: We’re all exhausted. We have been in crisis mode for almost two years. Two years. The pandemic and economic crises are nearly toddlers. We are not to be in crisis mode for this long. In addition to all the outer planets going retrograde at the same time?
We’re all coming out of this with PTSD or some shit.
I sometimes wonder if maybe I am a bad person because doesn’t the song go “Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked?” Am I wicked? Why can’t I just fucking rest sometimes? When can I close my eyes? Does it have to be when I close my eyes for good?
(If you have no idea what song I’m talking about, we’re not friends anymore)
Monday afternoon rolls around after my 40.5 hour weekend, and I had just cleaned most of the house, started laundry, done three tarot readings, picked up the little one from daycare, ran home, let the dog out, finished cleaning, let the demon dog back in the house, ran to the bigger one’s school because the bus was running over an hour late and hadn’t even picked him up yet, gotten back home, microwaved something for dinner, drank a protein shake, and we finally laid down in my room to watch a movie arrrrooooouuuunnnnddd 730P.
That’s the last thing I remember before I suddenly woke up at 8:58P freaking the fuck out.
The microwave trays and their little desks are gone.
There is no movie on my TV.
There are no child noises.
There is no pitter patter, stomp stomp, or clickety clack of little feet, bigger feet, or paws.
There are absolutely no noises whatsoever in the entire house.
WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY CHILDREN?
All of these things go through my head in less than half a second, so don’t get this idea that I woke up and laid in bed contemplating where the small humans were. It took me longer to type out what I didn’t hear than it did for me to jump out of bed and tear into the living room and check the doors.
Huh… front door is locked. Oh, so is the back door? I feel a little better, but where is the dog? He’s usually right up my ass if I so much as move from my bed to my desk.
I go into the boys’ room.
The Tiny Titan and Wordless Wonder put themselves to bed. They turned on their window rocker and covered themselves with their blankets. The Demon Dog was laying across Tiny Titan’s legs and looking at me like I had lost my mind.
This might have been a huge mom fail, but I’m going to take the win where I can get it. They both know how things run in Mommy’s house, and they respect it. That’s what I’m talking about!
I just realized I’m going to have to run that laundry again because I never took it out. Dammit, man.