motherhood, politics, faith & whatnot

Perhaps the worst time of the day for me is the morning when I’m trying to get my gaggle out the door for a playdate or whatever. It’s the time when my two biggest deficiences collide — trying to get everybody dressed with clothes and shoes gathered from all corners of the house and garage, bags packed, snacks prepared. Trying to think about what I particular things we might need for that particular outing. Trying to get myself dressed and fed, all the while mediating fights and tending to all the bazillion little requests that arise. I’m just not an organized person and this attention to detail first thing in the morning (it’s not even that early really, heh) makes my brain hurt. It’s fairly common for me to forget what I’m in the middle of doing once I’ve gotten pulled away from it. All moms experience this to a certain degree, I think.

I feel like I’m drowning, flailing around in the water. I can’t even keep my own head above water and when I get a rhythm, the kids jump into the pool right on top of me and now I’ve got to keep us all afloat. And the other thing is the noise level. It’s challenging enough to try to get everybody together, but you throw the screeching and the whining and the yelling in and you’ve got a mom who loses her shizznit in a millisecond and yells until everyone is quiet so she can think. Not the best example for my kiddos, I think.

I know, I know. Everyone loses it at time, and I’m fine with it happening occasionally, but this is a pretty routine thing. There’s gotta be a better way, that’s easier on me and therefore easier on the kids.