Lately, I've been holding on for dear life.
A few weeks ago, I found myself starting to get overwhelmed with everything and feeling like I'm stuck in a rut. It's a strange feeling to be battling when the weather has warmed up, the sun is shining (mostly), and the kids are finally able to leave the house.
It's like winter took a wrong turn and ended up in my heart.
I've been trying to put my feelings into words over the last few days and practically had a meltdown last night when my husband came home.
The laundry never ends.
My quadruplets are more opinionated than ever.
And there are only so many ways to cook a boneless, skinless chicken breast. Amen?
Maybe it's because I just don't like snow and ice, so being stuck in the house in January isn't a big issue to me. But now that it's summer, I want some freedom. A vacation. Just a break. A break from the monotony of stepping on cereal pieces, and finding my kids chewing on hair ties. A break from forcing Abby to pick up her toys, and from Ellie whining because someone touched her feet. A break from pulling Elijah off of the toy box so that he won't bang on the TV, and from trying to keep Caleb's hands out of his poop.
Maybe I've been pushing myself too hard lately. I've been trying to keep up with being a mother, a wife, and a writer, and I'm just exhausted from it all. There is nothing wrong with any of those, but maybe I need to carve our a little daily time for myself and just de-stress. No guilt, no shame. Just sit down, read a book, eat a snack, and dream for a bit.
Maybe it's the issues that both sides of our family are struggling with right now that are pulling on my energy. I seem to have fully embraced the verse that says, "weep with those who weep." Some of our family members are walking paths that mirror situations we've been in...yet are worlds different to the point where we can't even comprehend the pain. There is nothing we can do to help but love them. And that is so frustrating. So, so terribly heartbreaking and frustrating.
Or maybe it's all of it weighing down on me. Wanting to help everyone, love everyone, and protect everyone in my life. I'm not even sure where I'm going with this post, or what to do with my feelings. All I know is that sometimes, praying is all that I can do for the people I love in my life.
It's not that I hate motherhood or staying at home with my littles. Quite the contrary. I've never been more content with my place in life. It's just that the cracks are starting to appear from the strain of keeping up with everything.
Typically, I spend my kids’ waking hours caring for them, and their sleeping hours writing. I go 100% all of the time, working on some project or another. Maybe I'm just burnt out?
Yesterday, I took an hour out of my day, ditched the to-do list, and sat on the couch with my fiction book. When Sean got home, I told him that I spent an hour doing nothing productive. He told me that reading is very productive.
I've had people say, "Well, what do you expect? You are a stay-at-home mom with toddler quadruplets. Of course you will be tired!"
But it's not the same tired as just running after them all day. It's a bone weary feeling which seems to suck the energy from the inside out.
The cracks are starting to appear in the way I snap at my kids, lose my patience with their explorations, and just want to bury myself in bed and not come back out for a few weeks.
I'm hanging on for dear life.