Sub-par morning in the parenting world

The scones were beautiful and the lemon curd was divine, but otherwise, this morning was the pits. Every ounce of me wanted to run away screaming, en route to some sort of safe house where stupid squabbles, poopie talk and whining were verboten and in which silence was the golden rule. By 8:30, I had cried twice, had a headache and could literally feel my insides writhing and tightening like an angry pile of asps. I was both dreading and really looking forward to the meeting I had at school. Though I tend to want to hunker down by my lonesome when I feel so awful, it's usually best for me to get out and about and see people and friends. And as usual, it helped tremendously. Sadly but also comfortingly, at least three other friends of mind (also moms at the school) confessed to having equally rough mornings: pubescent drama, BS whining and tantrumming, sibling nonsense, spousal inaction. One booked a plane ticket for next weekend to go see girlfriends, one felt pretty WTF and considered wine, one was recently told by a stranger that her children were "parent-deaf," and all of us felt pretty shell-shocked. All of us are so tired. We're frazzled and fried and need some way of restoring our depleted reservoirs. We wonder aloud how on earth we'll get through all the years that are still to come. How we'll muster strength to mediate another argument, stick to our guns in negotiations, ably appreciate the wonderfulness amidst the soul-sucking lunacy that is motherhood not just a tiny bit of the time.

There was more than an undercurrent of "this really sucks sometimes." And I know I speak for us all when I say that feeling this way is, in and of itself, awful. It's scary. It's demoralizing. We are all really well educated, interested and interesting women who wholeheartedly and enthusiastically opted into being stay-at-home moms. We were at school this morning for an early meeting we chose to attend because we want to help our children's school and engage in their lives beyond home. We want to be doing what we're doing but damn if it's not shitty at times. And the awareness of that is what can feel frightening and bad. We brought our incredible children into this world knowing they'd be wholly dependent on us for a long while. But no one knows what that's like until they're in it. How intense that is. Each kid is different. You're changing too. You're not getting younger. You miss your husband. You miss yourself. And all of that can breed resentment that you don't want to feel but must acknowledge or you'll just burst.

We were all there for each other this morning, offering hugs and quiet expletive-riddled phrases of shared frustration and support. I am so thankful for these women and for these friendships, and I hope that they each felt a little better after we parted ways. I know I did. A virtual hug to all you moms out there, near and far, those I'm lucky to call friends and those I don't even know.