Friday, April 29, 2016


Motherhood is exhausting. Being a single parent (with no involvement from the other party) multiplies the exhaustion exponentially.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm at the end of my rope, flirting with burnout.

It usually has nothing or very little to do with the three kids five and under I spend nearly all of my "free" time away from work with, except for the all-nighters my youngest has me pulling some nights and the decent sleep shortage she induces almost every night. Other than that, when I really look at it, there doesn't seem to be any differences between weeks I feel refreshed and ready to tackle parenting as opposed to the weeks I want to wave my white flag, hide under my blankets, and let the cat take the lead.

But sometimes, it's just extra taxing.

I toy with the thought "I could just give up."

It crosses my mind, but I never say it aloud.

I don't even know how I would give up. Even when I feel like the worst mom ever because I've had 6 cups of coffee and can't keep my eyes open, or every one of my nerves is fried to a crisp, or the sound of another request or inquiry makes me want to put on noise-cancelling headphones... I still don't know how I would give up when the thought of giving up crosses my mind.

I suppose that's a good thing.

What I will tell you is every so often, I reach my limit, or I get close to the edge of it, anyway, and silence and sleep sound so enticing I contemplate the "what if" situation where I wonder what it would be like had I not put my foot down, or didn't care about their father's poor choices and questionable, unstable parenting. I wonder what it would be like to have had a more "typical" or even amicable split where there was shared custody and I had a weekend to myself every so often to just sleep or do something for me.

But, that's not the case. 

Time to come out of my bedroom where I'm not really putting away the laundry so I can change another diaper.

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