Sanctuary!

Sometimes, motherhood is a cruel form of torture. You know the days I'm talking about. The days when there is no limit to the amount of times you can get puked on, pooped on, or screamed at; the kind of days you find yourself getting your first shower at midnight and intentionally staying up even later just to sit in quiet.

I used to be a people person. I've always required a fair amount of alone time to be able to function at my best, but I've always enjoyed people. Anymore, instead of wanting to make plans with friends, I dread them. I cringe when someone tries to set something up. Plans are so daunting. What if our day is going lousy? What if I want to back out? What if I'm too exhausted? What if the kids absolutely require a nap that day? Nope. Too bad. Suck it up. On the flip side of that, I have, on more than one occasion, really enjoyed a surprise play date. Spontaneity works well for me. Text me, call me, ask me if we have something happening that very day, and I may just take you up on something, but try to plan something with me days or weeks in advance, and I will almost always look for a reason that date won't work. It's not personal. It's just that some days require more intentional, do-the-bare-minimum nothingness than others.

And what's the bare minimum for a stay at home mom of 4, you ask? Well, it usually involves doing all the things I need to do every day in order for my household to function and my kids to live, but allows for me to remain in the same clothes I slept in the night before, and allows me to cuddle my baby longer than I might normally, while reading up about all of you on Facebook.

Yesterday was an I don't want to do anything important all day kind of day. The day before that was too, except that we had plans, so I sucked it up, and I was a miserable conversation partner for my poor, dear friend.

There are only so many times you can get puked on, so many times you can repeat the same dang sentence, and so many times you can get asked the same darn thing, before you inevitably snap. And it's not pretty. Y'all, I'm tired, and it has nothing to do with sleep. I have a 4 month old baby who has been sleeping all night since she was about a month and a half old. And not just all night, but 10 hours all night. I'm still not getting the full 8 or even 7 or really even 6, but my exhaustion is not from a lack of sleep, it's from the constant do-all-the-things days, because our level of functioning depends upon laundry getting done every. single. day. And dishes, oh the dishes! I spend roughly 10 full days a year just washing dishes. WASHING DISHES! And that isn't counting all the interruptions. The bare minimum cleaning tasks require a whole stinking day between all the times I have to feed someone. Oy.

So, yesterday my entire morning consisted of telling Isaac no or acknowledging him when he needed me to look at him do something, while trying to get a pukey, fussy baby to sleep.

- Mommy!
Yes, Isaac.
---------------
-Mommy!
Yes, Isaac.
--------------
-Mommy!!!
YES, ISAAC!!!!!
-Go outside?
No, not right now. Wait please.

-Mommy.
Yes, Isaac.
-Put socks on?
We're not going outside right now. Please wait.


Meanwhile, Charlotte is screaming at me, clawing my chest, banging her head into my shoulder. She grabs a fistful of hair from the nape of my neck with the grip strength of a Marine, while using her other hand to strategically pull the burp cloth away from my skin, and promptly pukes right between my boobs.

-Mommy.
Yes, Isaac.
-Put shoes on?
between clenched teeth, NOT. NOW.

While I'm cleaning up the spit up, Elijah comes in from outside, and utters the two most dreaded words of my day, the two, seemingly most harmless words you can imagine, that really do me in.

-I'm hungry.

It is never simply stated. It is always whined, as though they must be starving, as though I never feed them, as though they didn't just eat 10 minutes ago.

-Can I have something to eat?

And I. lose. my. mind.

NO! NO TO YOU, WHO CLAIMED TO BE FULL WHILE I WAS MAKING LUNCH JUST 15 MINUTES AGO, AND WAITED UNTIL I PUT EVERYTHING AWAY! NO TO YOU WHO JUST ATE 10 MINUTES AGO! NO TO YOU, WHO STILL HASN'T FINISHED THEIR BREAKFAST EVEN. NO NO NO NO NO!

Ok, so I hold it together a little bit better than that, and I start counting down the hours/minutes to when Jelani will be home, and I can pass the baby to him and claim sanctuary.

You know, that one place in the house where no one questions what you're doing in there, how long, or why?

The bathroom.

I don't care if all I have to do is pee. I'm taking the Kindle in with me, and I will sit there as long as I want. I turn that vent on, which sounds like a really old, rusty helicopter, and do a whole lot of nothing in there. I might do my squats, and some core work. I might brush my teeth an extra time. I might even clean. You don't know, and you won't ask, and if the baby cries? Well, that's just not my responsibility, is it? Not from in there! I relish that time alone.

And then, inevitably, there's a knock on the door.

-Mommy?
Yes.
-I'm hungry.

You had to walk...by your daddy, IN THE KITCHEN, to come up here and tell me that!!!!!!

SAAAAAAANCTUARRRRRYYYYYYYYYYYY!