On Thursday morning, I had just been thinking how much I love getting baby G up in the mornings, because he is so sweet and smiley when we wake him. I climbed the stairs to wake him up. I opened the door, and he looked up at me, and let out the loudest, most bloodcurdling scream. He continued to screech the entire time I changed him, only stopping when I picked him up and held him. With him clutched to my shoulder, we started down the hall towards the stairs, when I stepped in…something…warm…mushy…..stinky. Poop. I stepped in Sassy poop. I plunked Baby G in his bouncer for 2.5 seconds so that I could clean to poop off of my sock and floor, which only made him more angry. Fabulous start to that day. Of course, it’s funny now, but it made my (already tough) morning a little tougher.
When I got to work, I stepped in more poop. I was told that I need to have a meeting with this girl at work who doesn’t like me (and thinks she is my boss…a bad combination) to see if we can find a way to be more amicable at work. Naturally I am frustrated by this prospect, as I have tried my hardest to stay away from her, but she keeps trying to find little petty ways to make my life more difficult, within the confines of her job; enough to be completely annoying, but not enough to get her into any serious trouble. You know, petty things, like having me fill out forms a few times, talking to the other co-chief like he is the only chief resident, mispronouncing my name, etc. You get the point. And, the funny thing is, I have been trying to just rise above it, and yet, here I am, being told I need to go to her, as if it is my fault.
So, how do you stay positive when there’s all this poop around you? I have this urge to run far far away when things gets super stressful and are not satisfying. Lately, that’s just how things have been. I feel like something is missing, these days, and I can’t quite pinpoint what it is. Am I just exhausted and in need of “me” time? I haven’t had “me” time in a while, and I haven’t hung out with friends in a loooong loooong time, either. Mostly because my friends I had before Baby G fit perfectly into my life then, but it’s hard for them to understand that he goes to bed at 7:30 PM and that means I can’t go out to a wine bar, or I can’t join on an improptu shopping weekend to Cleveland, because that would involve having the orchestration and organization efforts of a military general to coordinate. Most “normal” days feel like I need the orchestration and organization efforts of a military general to coordinate. So how do I get to that place, where I feel like me without these short, but significant, periods of feeling lackluster? I am not unhappy in my life. I love my life, my husband, my job, my puppies, and I love Baby G more than life itself. Am I just so exhausted I can’t enjoy it? I think maybe I am. I also think I could really use some help every so often. Like, with basic things, like getting the house clean and dinner on the table. Are there people that do that??? I can’t shake the feeling that it makes me a bad mom that I can’t seem to do those things, when my mom so effortlessly did that with not one, but three, kids.
I wish a lot of things. Like, I wish our little apartment was bigger. But then I remember how lucky we are to have a warm home and roof over our heads, and I know I don’t have room to complain. I wish it was sunny even just one day a week. But then, I remember that the summers are pretty nice here, so I could look forward to that. And I wish that I had mommy friends I could get together with and see every so often. Then I realize I should just be thankful for the people and friends I do have in my life. I wish I hadn’t slid on the ice into a guardrail a couple weeks ago. But I remember that I should be thankful that Baby G wasn’t with me, and that the insurance covered all the repairs on the car, and I wasn’t hurt at all, either. I wish I could take a vacation. But then, I realize I have a conference coming up, and while it is still work, it does get me out of this city for a week. My wish list goes on. Or, more appropriately, my complaint list…and I am totally disgusted that I complain so much, that I feel like I complain about my complaining!! And I know that if I am annoyed by me, everyone around me is probably sick of me, too. I’m just stuck in this…funk.
And I was stuck in this funk last week, and one of the people I work with saw me and said hello. I asked him how his day was going, and he said, “Terrible. You?”
I had just had the whole Poop Fiasco about 10 minutes prior, which was running me late for work, so I had said, “Mine too. What’s going on with you?”
He replied, “My friend just killed himself this morning. He had been in and out of mental health for years, but we knew it was coming. What’s going on with you this morning?”
And I just shut my mouth. None of it mattered. My stupid, petty poops just didn’t matter. At all. So I just replied, “I think I take it back, actually.”
I’m lucky to be alive. And I’m lucky to have this family of mine. And I’m lucky, even if I step in poop every day for the rest of my life, because I’m given another chance to make things better than they were the day before. And no one is going to do it for me, I have to help myself, and trust that God’s got my back.