Tag Me Out Bro!

Today has been one of those Mama days. I have said "No", "What are you doing?", "Don't do that" "Why did you do that?", "Did you poop your pants?", "Why did you spread applesauce all over yourself?", "No, you cannot stand on the sit and spin.", "If you put your drill in your mouth it will hurt", "I am right here". You get the point. Add to that my son's inability to be less than six inches from me all day, no nap, intense back pain, a cat who is somehow always under my feet and a husband who is working hard to redo the kitchen cabinets and I am in that place.


I am eating peanut butter sandwich crackers and drinking a Pepsi. I put on the second movie and placed my son in front of it. I am sitting on a yoga ball that leaves me two inches too short for this desk and I am pretty sure that smell is me. The sink is full of dishes, and there is a pile of yet more vegetables that I need to freeze or can or throw out the window. I emptied half the dishwasher before realizing the dishes weren't clean. I have had to wash poop out of clothes.   Adulting has become too hard. I want to be tagged out pro-wrestling style.

My doppelganger can come in and I will go to hotel. One with a fancy lobby and rooms with incredible beds and super soft robes. Wearing the robe, I will read a book and order room service. I could spend sometime reveling in the silence. I could go to the bathroom by myself. I wouldn't need long. Twenty four hours would be enough.

Thanks to the glory of my Mom's group, I know that I am not alone. Other Mamas feel this too. They are also biting back the scream as they tell their child to not do something for the thousandth time. They feel the guilt that comes with your child wanting nothing but you and you wanting nothing but ten minutes to breath. They know that you can feel this overwhelmed and still revel in the wonder that is bed time snuggles. You can love being a Mom and still need to scream sometimes.

So scream, go into the bedroom, close the door and let loose. Dance to a song your kids probably shouldn't hear. Group text your Mom friends. Call your sister. Call your Mama, and pray she will take the kid for awhile. You may smell and your t-shirt is gross, but lipstick goes with anything. Know we are all in it with you. If you don't know other Mom's send me a message.  Adulting is hard. No one should do it alone.

Today was rough, but my kid is alive. I remembered to eat something and keep the baby growing. At some point I think I kissed my husband. I will give the cat some soft food to make up for all the stepping on. Now I will put on some headphones and listen to Sondheim while my kid watches one more episode of the Bob the Builder. Stay strong fellow Mama. I got your back.