Today was Pajama Day at school and I just plain overlooked the reminders that came home with BOTH kids on Friday. I finally realized it was Pajama Day as we sat in the drop off line before school and saw all the kids going in the building wearing their pajamas and fuzzy slippers. Of course, I deflected all blame and swore up and down to my kids that it wasn’t that I messed up, but it was that the teachers didn’t include it on their Friday notes. And of course, when I got home the first thing I did was re-read the notes home from both teachers on Friday and saw that, yep, they’d both said that today was Pajama Day at school.
Crap. (I actually said something a little worse.) (And I took pjs up to school for the kids to change into because I knew it would make their days.)
Last week, I published a post on my local family website that had completely inaccurate information. Not only was I MORTIFIED at my error, I was also completely ticked off at myself for not double checking my work and allowing a huge error to be published.
I’ve been just a little overwhelmed lately. By lately, I mean, for the past year. Somehow I’ve not quite mastered balancing this whole working thing with getting stuff done at home thing. Every Sunday night I absolutely dread the week, knowing how much there is to accomplish between writing assignments, homework, gymnastics, soccer, cooking dinner, laundry…well, you get the picture.
I waited seven years to send both kids off to school. I dreamed about the freedom I’d feel with all those hours to myself. It’s not really like what I was expecting. Homework, school volunteering, and after school activities are so time consuming. During those hours that the kids are in school, I try to work, but now that we got a puppy, there isn’t any uninterrupted time for me to work. I’m constantly taking the puppy out to go potty, playing with the puppy, rushing to get errands run to get home to the puppy, rushing to write posts that have errors in them before I have to take the puppy outside again…
Tate reminded me the other day that I don’t have to do all of the things that I take on. It’s my choice to work, which yeah, I realize that I’m BEYOND lucky that it’s my choice, but I still do feel like I have to work. I feel like I should help earn money, I feel like “just” doing mom stuff isn’t enough (this is not a jab at stay at home moms, just how I feel about myself, okay!?), I feel like I’ve started some things that I don’t know how to stop. I even made a list of what I do everyday in order of importance.
1. Kids (and remembering things like freaking Pajama Day. GAH.), Husband, Mae
4. Laundry/Cooking/Grocery Shopping
There were 19 things on my list. Several of the things, like “Friends” are high on my priority list, but actually rank a lot lower in the time I actually devote to them. Then, the last four things on the list are things I’d like to just quit, but I don’t know how to just quit, because just quitting isn’t that simple (of course, it’s not).
Sooooo, I’m not actually going anywhere with this, but I just needed to say it. In writing. Something’s got to give, but I don’t know how to give up.