fe·ral adj ˈfir-əl, ˈfer-; ˈfe-rəl
Definition of FERAL1 : of, relating to, or suggestive of a wild beast2 a: not domesticated or cultivated :wildb: having escaped from domestication and become wild
Not domesticated. Or un-domesticated. As in, once I felt like maybe I had this whole domestic goddess (or at least demi-goddess) thing down and now I feel like I am a mere mortal once again.
People, my laundry is growing exponentially by the day. Clean laundry. I have clean laundry bunny rabbits mating and reproducing at the speed of light in my house. Want to know why I’m complaining?
Because the laundry, while clean, is spilling over, unfolded, from baskets and heaps and mounds.
Because there simply is not enough time in the day for me to do everything I both need and want to do and make it out alive.
I am becoming feral. Wild. Beast-like.
Last week I had a near meltdown because of Joshua’s picky eating. Yesterday I had a near meltdown because my pants didn’t fit so I wore my dirty jeans because they are my new favorite pair and they didn’t make me feel like I wanted to choke a kitten.
Okay, so far, so good today, but people, we’re not looking good here if my track record is any indication of how things will go.
Getting up in the morning feels like punishment because my bed is so comforting. The rest of the world feels mean and thorny. There is stuff I must do if I get out of bed. If I just stay there, I can shut my eyes to it all and pretend there’s not a crazy jungle growing up around me.
It sucks to know that if I go to the gym in the afternoons, I limit the time I have left to do stuff once I get home. But it sucks to know that if I DON’T go to the gym, I will be cursed to a life of kitten choking due to ill-fitting pants.
I mean, what’s a girl to do? Save the kittens or do the laundry? Kittens are cute. And fluffy.
(And then they grow up into cats who piss on couches but we just won’t go there right now lest I have another meltdown over the cost of replacing the replacement cushions on my couch because the ones bought the first time have already gone flat.)
And let’s toss into this mix the fact that my child loves to be outside. And the days are getting nicer and longer and I want to be outside with him making some Vitamin D. But if he and I are outside kicking a ball or sidewalk chalking, I’m not inside prepping dinner or doing laundry. And getting him to go inside and then come back out and then go inside and come back out? Oh no.
Epic Toddler Meltdown of Epicness, people. (ZOMG. Epic. And not even remotely in a good way.)
And let’s also toss in the fact that gas? Is freaking expensive. And my husband does not work near-ish to our daycare at all and is, in fact, in the complete opposite direction from the daycare. And we specifically chose a daycare within close proximity to my school because my schedule, while tight, is still more flexible than his. So having him drop off and/or pick up the toddler isn’t really a viable all-the-time option. (And I don’t really love the thought of my child staying in daycare for 11 hours a day all the time every day just so Mama can get her elliping [and sleep] on.)
So, working moms, I need some wisdom. Because it seems like just as soon as I get this all figured out, I am back at square one and figuring it all out again.
(Oh, and go enter my birthday giveaway, please and thank you. I love giving you stuff for my birthday.)