I try to stay organized. I try to keep on top of things. But some days, no matter what I do, its not enough.
The mess spreads beyond acceptable borders. Rooms that should be clean aren't and the ones that should look "lived in" look like federal disaster areas. Bunny is like a hurricane during the day, leaving a trail of dinosaurs other assorted animals in her wake. If she follows me into another room, the chaos also follows.
I try to pick up the messes we make each day. And then I try to do one more thing, laundry, vacuuming or something, to stay on top of the clutter. But there is not enough time, only nap time and after bed. And I am only one person. I need help, professional help, but any help will do.
But there are times, like today, when I cannot accept the help when it comes. Bunny chose not to sleep for whatever reason. So I got some internet time in but no time to myself or to clean. I was listening to her whine over the monitor, stewing, when my parents stopped by. My dad was going to do some work on the "deck" we have in the back. My mom started to clean the kitchen.
Rather than accepting the help, I lost it. I started to feel bad about myself and the chaos around me. I took their help as a judgement against me and my parenting skills. I thought if they had to help me, then it meant that I could not take care of my family in the way that I was supposed to. If I couldn't keep the house clean with just three people and two cats (with their shedding fur, their hairballs, their puke and their pee), then how could I possibly add another baby to the mix.
I was tired, I was alone, and I was overwhelmed. When I get stressed, I get lost. I get into a deep, dark hole and its hard to get out of. I realized that this home and this family are all that I have. I don't have a lot of other outlets for my feelings. I don't have friends who are in the same boat as me. None of my friends here can relate to what I am going through.
All of that emotion came out in the tears I was shedding. I felt like a failure, even though I knew I wasn't. I yelled at my mom. But really I was yelling at myself. Picking at old wounds, causing new ones because I just didn't know what else to do.
But the answer was there. It was staring me right in the face. I had to say that I needed help and I had to accept the help that was given. So I swallowed the false pride I was feeling and let her help. I still feel bad, but my kitchen is clean and that is a small victory. So now I can fold the 5 loads of laundry I did today and go to bed knowing that I, we, made a dent in the chaos. So thank you Mom and Dad for helping me, I really needed it.
The stress isn't totally gone, nor will it ever be. It is constantly there just like a friend or lover you want to let go of but can't. I just have to remember to take time for myself, to breath, to relax. Not to let it overwhelm me to the point of causing physical symptoms like it has done in the past.
I have to realize that I am not alone. I have my little family. And even if they can't always relate, I have friends. And I have this blog, I can reach out into the wilds of the internet and there are those who will understand me.