An ice cold mess

I get a lot of compliments, mostly on Facebook, about how together I have things and how amazing it is that I can get my house cleaned and cook a full meal and take the kids with me for grocery shopping and for constant trips to Target and the library, and while I appreciate the compliments (really, I truly do … when else would someone call you a supermom on a regular basis? Not at home, that’s for sure) … most times it’s just not true.

Yes, I cook almost every night. I cook real food, and it’s (usually) not out of a box and (usually) not premade and frozen (although sometimes it is and I don’t feel bad about that or think that anyone who does go out of the box or premade should feel bad about that either – it’s all about priorities). Yes, I generally have a clean house (although generally no clean bottles because I HATE TO CLEAN THEM). I brave stores with the kids because a) Spencer has always, ALWAYS, been better in public so it’s really a joy to shop with him, as long as I let him wander through the toy aisle and push the buttons on some of the displays) and b) I can’t stand to be cooped up in the house, so I do what I have to do.

But the truth is, most times I feel like a mess. Right now when the high is 48 degrees I feel like an ice cold mess, but a mess all the same. I clean because the clutter drives me crazy and not because I enjoy it. I like a clean house, and I’ll kill myself making it stay that way. I can’t let go yet and go with the disaster.

I cook because it’s the one thing I think I do well, and it’s the one thing I get appreciated for on a regular basis. My husband’s last day before the layoff is Friday, and the other day we were sitting at the table eating (chicken chili, I think) and we had this conversation:

C: So … when I’m jobless do you want me to take over the cooking?

Me: Do you want to do the cooking?

C: Well, I can do it but it’s not going to be like this. (he waves his fork at his meal) This (waves) always looks restaurant quality. If I cook it won’t look like this (waves) and it definitely won’t taste like this (waves).

Me: Well, do you want to cook?

C: Not really. But if you want me to, I will.

BTW, he can't really cook.

Lately the stress of everything has been getting to me, and when that happens I tend to shut down. You can’t shut down properly when you have a toddler, even if you very sweetly ask Sprout On Demand to babysit for awhile. Sunday was one of those days where I just couldn’t function. The kids were sick, I was annoyed, it was cold and rainy and angry outside and I was cold and irritable inside. Spencer was sick but wouldn’t sit and just be sick and I was afraid of him infecting the whole house so I kept getting irrationally upset that he was using different seats and running around and I was worried snot would be on all his toys so I would have to clean them all … I was a mess. I tried watching a Lifetime Christmas movie because those help my mood and Spencer just wouldn’t let me alone despite being bribed with Barney and Caillou and Dora, and the hubby had gone to his parents to fix a computer problem for them which ended up taking hours because they had this and that and another thing... Then I started dinner and he wanted to help (sickie sickie sickie) so I let him stand next to me and not over the chicken and he FELL OFF THE DAMN CHAIR. All he was doing was standing there on his little chair that he brings over to help, and he fell and busted his lip on the counter and hit the floor. Just one more thing, seriously. He was fine except a tiny bit of blood, but I swear, I feel like my world is crashing in on me sometimes.

Monday morning he came in and I told him to go potty and he told me he didn’t know how, and I lost it. I smacked his butt, picked him up and deposited him in the bathroom and my husband came in to finish up with him so I could go bury myself in the covers and pout for a bit before I had to get up and go to work. My parenting skills have gone out the window and I’ve been deferring to my husband to deal with the kids so I don’t have a nervous breakdown, but then I feel bad about leaving things to him when I’m the mom and I think that I should be doing all that parenting as well.

My hair is falling out at an alarming rate (however, a plus is that it seems to not be so frizzy, but that could just be because I'm going bald). I'm worried that I'm drinking too much (only a glass or two, but I think four-five nights a week is probably not a good thing. I'm not French). I've gained weight instead of lost it because I'm a stress eater and I'M ALWAYS HUNGRY.

Someone, please take over – I need a vacation.