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Y’all, did you know I’m not a supermom?

Because I’m so not.  This weekend proved that to me.  Well, I mean, it’s proving that to me.

We’ve discussed how I’m chronically tired, yes?  Good.

We’ve also discussed how my child likes to wake up at ungodly hours of the morning, yes?  Good.

Furthermore, we’re all clear on the fact that I work outside the home and have multiple extracurricular activities related to that career, right?  Good.

They all came smashing together this week and I’m still trying to recover.

Joshua is a whiny mess this morning and I’m still trying to recuperate from my 17 and a half hour work day on Friday followed by 5 hour practice on Saturday followed by a speed clean of our house since friends were in the area and came over for a bit yesterday evening followed by Joshua having an awful night last night and waking up three times.

As we were speed-cleaning, Dan was all “What is wrong with you? Why are you in such a foul mood?” and I’m like “I CANNOT DO IT ALL!!” And I almost cried.  Because it’s true.

I can’t do it all.

I’m not supermom.

Why have I not grasped onto and embraced this idea yet?  Why do I still push myself for perfection?  Why do I still feel the need to do everything myself?

Oh, yeah.  Because I’m an EPIC CONTROL FREAK.

I expect things will happen a certain way. My way. Because that’s the “best” way. (I realize my way isn’t the “best” way, y’all.  But it’s my way. So it’s MY BEST way.)  But what this means is that I can’t delegate or hand off any responsibilities. Because, I mean, then things will go all awry and I will be disappointed and I will feel like I let myself down and let other people down because I didn’t give them the best whatever they could possibly have.

It’s horribly hard when you feel the (slightly irrational) need to be everything to everyone every time.  Especially when there is no time to be everyone’s everything.

Color Guard is a huge time-eater.

When I’m not at practice, I’m thinking about practice.  I’m thinking about how in five weeks, competition season will be over and I’ll have some of my life back.  I’m thinking about how I want to win at competition but I don’t think we will and how I’ll have to not show my disappointment when we don’t.  Because I will be disappointed. 

I’m already disappointed in how not well we seem to be doing.

In addition to my usual responsibilities at school, I’m fundraising for a 9th grade assembly we’re holding in October.  We’ve never done this before and I had the idea to bring someone to us instead of taking them somewhere and I really love the idea.  So I went to Ye Olde Google and found an awesome guest speaker to come in and talk to our freshmen.  (Jeff Yalden, if you were wondering.)

But I’ve created more work for myself in having this idea.

Now on my planning and lunch periods, I’m tracking down businesses and soliciting donations.

What this means is that I’m not planning during my planning period. And I’m scarfing my food and not paying attention to how much I’m eating during my lunch.  (McFatty Monday is going to be not awesome for me. I can tell.  I vote I gained two pounds last week.)

I don’t mind making these phone calls and talking to people because this assembly and what we’re trying to do is something I believe in deeply.  I get to share my enthusiasm for this with others when I make these phone calls, which makes them want to help us.  I love my students and school and I want only the best for them in their lives.  It’s a worthy time investment to me, you know?

But it’s another thing I’ve added to my plate. Another ball up in the air.  Another hat to put on my head that does not look good in hats in the first place.

So yesterday, I was on the verge of a meltdown when we were cleaning.  Because I cannot. do. it. all.

(And Dan is a huge help, so please don’t jump on the “He should step up and help” train because that’s simply not a train that will take you anywhere.

This problem is mine and mine alone.)

I have high hopes that I’ll keep my house clean.  That I’ll do 15 minutes an evening and that will make the difference.  And then the evening rolls around and I’m all “I’ll do it tomorrow” because, truth be told, I’d love to go to bed when we put Joshua to bed. Every. Single. Night.

But I feel like a giant ball of LAME for thinking that.

Like I should use the time after he goes to bed to be an adult. A wife. A friend. A writer.  A me. 

So I do.

And then I pay the price because I have days like Tuesday and Friday and Saturday where I’m beyond the point of rational thought processes by the time they are over.  And then I feel like I’m two seconds away from parking myself in a corner and rocking back and forth while drooling all over myself. 

Drool is not a good look for me, y’all.

I feel like I’ve got to learn to let go. But I have no idea how to even begin to do that.

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