I know, I know, that I get depressed when a) I need more sleep and b) it’s going to be too long before I have writing time again. So I should be able to just go to sleep and push the little black clouds off again, right?
I think most of us know depression doesn’t quite work that way.
The truth is that around here, we loathe weekends, which doesn’t really bode well for our marriage or family life, but there it is. We haven’t had weekend help in ages. I know, all of your kids play happily while you blog or do dishes or laundry or put the shelves in the new bookcases that have been sitting there for weeks. shelfless. Ours don’t. This is what they do:
Pull themselves up on your leg and wail hysterically. (Wyatt)
Hang around begging you over and over again to come and play family. Announce that they have to pee. Knock Wyatt over. Fall over themselves and begin screaming hysterically. (Lily)
Lay on the floor two feet away sighing heavily and asking when they can have some ice cream. (Sam)
Somehow it doesn’t sound as painful when I write about it, but it is. Just as you put the first peg in to put in one shelf (of 24), Lily has to go to the bathroom. Return to bang it in, Wyatt is hysterical, beside himself. Change his diaper, stop to nurse him, something. Retun for second peg. Can we have a snack? We’re hungry. Get snack. Return. We need a drink, you didn’t get me a drink! Return. Can I have another piece of cheese? That’s a healthy snack, cheese, can I have another?
Damn it, this sounds funny. And the thing is, at the time, it’s not. Not at all. It’s like walking in jello, all the time.
Probably everyone else just ignores them and puts the shelves in. Ah, yes, once again it’s my failure. That’s what I hate most about parenting. Why yes, indeed, it’s all your fault.
Anyhow, on the weekend, it’s all about you take them. You get them breakfast. Can’t you just watch them for a few minutes? Can you come over here and get him? Can you get her off me? And they need so much, so much, that we both end up feeling like we did it all, all weekend. And that’s not even getting into the laundry or the dishwasher or the piles and piles of crap all over the place. By Sunday night we are a pair of grumpy martyrs who don’t talk to one another.
I have found us someone for SUnday afternoons, but I feel guilty about it. Surely we should be able to take care of our own children, especially when there are two of us. Other people do. I’ve seen them.
I had such a miserable fucking day.
It is a good thing I don’t believe in God, because he’d punish me for saying that by giving me real misery, I know he would. Or she would. I’m an equal opportunity non believer. Unfortunately I do believe in irony, a powerful force in the universe and equally out to get me.
Yeah, I know, buck up, little beaver. I will. It’s all or nothing here. It’s either a great day or the sun will never shine again. The lows are just a little deeper and more frequent at the moment.
I say get weekend help and don’t feel guilty about it. Just do it until you get things under control, you should be fine in six or seven years.
You MOVED. I told you it would suck to move… but no, you didn’t listen. I’m listening about getting a dog… Nick won’t go for a dog for at least a year or two and realistically, he’s right. We’ll probably do a kitten for N first anyway (this summer or her next birthday when MY GOODNESS she’ll be 6) which will also buy a year or so before we need a dog.
Okay, this isn’t about my future dog… This is about your mental health. Go, get thee a babysitter for the weekend… Then do your damn shelves without walking through jello (ewwww!).
Oh… One trick we do for the weekends when we don’t have a babysitter is to divide up some time… I get an hour or two and then he gets an hour or two. Then you don’t have to do the “you take them now” thing… It helps both of us to know when we get our time and then when we have OUR time, we are more productive because it’s precious. Do you ever do that?
I know, you hate me because my kids will play independently for a little while. I’ve been training them for that though for YEARS now. YEARS.
I’m letting T play with my recycling right now (it’s clean–we wash everything) because she is happy with the juice bottle and an empty vitamin bottle. Yea. 🙂 Whatever works.
I found that things got a lot better after T hit 15 months… Before they are a year it just kind of sucks… I think it had something to do with K not sleeping too for me…. I got serious about fixing that when T was 15 months. Anyway, it will get better and then it will be worse again, but it will get better eventually.
Get a babysitter and don’t feel guilty! My assvice for the weekend.
Or she would. Iâ€™m an equal opportunity non believer.
Is one of the greatest lines ever written in a blog.
Agree with JK …. Get help!!!
We are big into the attachment parenting and the kids come first thing, but darn it there comes a time when we need a break too!! Moving is extremely hard … add a bunch of kids and not having get out of the house time …. Get HELP!
I could never ignore the whiny little kidlets, either. The house was always a dive because I could never finish anything, even with my girlfriends telling me, “That’s what happens unless you let them cry it out!”
But you know what, if I could’ve hired a helper back then, I would’ve done it IN A HEARTBEAT.
And trust me, God would never punish you for saying stuff he/she probably says all the time.
Hey, sorry about that! I see you’re feeling better from the post above. I’m glad for that.
As for the help. I say: Whatever works! It is my all-time favorite parenting motto. I even thought I invented it once upon a time. Alas, I didn’t it. (There are no original ideas left!) Anyway, what works for others doesn’t even figure into the equation. So don’t waste your energy for one second thinking about what anyone else is doing. It’s: WHAT. WORKS. FOR. YOU. So get help if you need/want it. Without apology, my friend!
I know exactly what you’re talking about here. By Sunday my husband and I are grumpy martyrs too. I’ve only got two kids though… you’ve got three. That has GOT to be a LOT harder than two. (at least that is what it looks like to me)
I say though… that if you can afford some help, get it. I would if I could For.Sure. Maybe I would feel guilty at first… but I’m sure I’d get used to it.
Oh… And moving with three kids in tow?
Ouch. I feel for you.