Today has been a good day.
The sun is shining, the birds are singing and other than the usual morning altercations with the girls (they like to push all the limits before 9 a.m. it seems) things have been running smoothly. The Mister is home because he was parent helper at preschool this morning. This afternoon Moira and I went to her new school to meet the Kindergarten teacher. I’ve been for two long walks. Fionnuala asked for a nap(!). The stars aligned and I’m sure we will find out that peace was declared in the Middle East come morning.
Right now the baby is sleeping and the other two are watching Scooby Doo (they love that show). It feels nice to have a piece of quiet to sit and write.
Yesterday it was like the black cloud of gloom had descended upon me. I hadn’t slept well in days and I honestly didn’t know how I was going to make it through the day. I would have given the girls to anyone walking by who wanted to take them (hyperbole is my friend). I was crying over the fact that I didn’t have family close by who cared enough to help out and feeling rather sorry and pitiful the whole day. Even though I kept trying to talk myself out of my mood, “I am the parent here! I can take control of this situation and bring us out of this funk!” Nothing worked.
It was a long, ugly day.
Of course in the end I did make it through the day. I always do. Being with the girls all day can be isolating and some days I rely a little too heavily on the Mister to come home and pull me out of my funk – or at least take over so I can lay down or hide away for 20 minutes. Some days the cacophony of little girl voices – be it fighting or playing – makes me want to rip my hair out and some days it sounds like sweet music (okay, not the fighting bits).
I think being a Mum is making me psychotic.