Like every day, today I opened up Facebook. Like every day it was flooded with updates and shares and pictures with inspirational sayings. Occasionally something catches my eye and I'll open it. Sometimes it is a post in the midst of becoming viral. I'll see it a million times in the coming days. Sometimes it's a story I've seen periodically posted and after the 1,000 post, I finally click.
This morning, with a death grip on my coffee, I clicked.
Today, I needed this.
My husband has been sailing. A lot. And not a standard sail where he is gone for a couple of months. Since November, essentially, he has been gone Monday-Friday. Home on the weekends (for the most part). A couple of longer stretches where he was home for a little while. It's very unpredictable. I get it; he's in the Navy. It's what he signed up for. Sailing is as much a part of our lives as grocery shopping is for most families.
Shorter unpredictable sails are harder than the long ones. It's constant disruption. And surprisingly for some, the shorter sails are much, much more trying on a relationship. There is a light at the end of our current short-sail tunnel; he is preparing for an upcoming long sail. A very long eight-month sail. I'm equal parts preparing and in denial about this impending sail, but I know (despite how prepared I will be!) it will come on us like a freight train.
I'm very fortunate that my husband is an involved dad and partner; he pulls more than his fair share around the house. I do not do laundry. Period. I do not touch the floors in our home. Or the garbage. Or the green bin. He does bath time. And he builds a killer block-tower and makes a mean lasagna. And that's wonderful. But it does mean that when he's away...it's a bit more of a shock to our house. It's a LOT more on my plate. The adjustment is exhausting. I'm it. I'm on 24/7. Our closest family member is four hours away. The bulk of our family is an ocean away in another province. There is no one for me to call at 3 am if the shit hits the proverbial fan. I mean, there are friends, SURE, but I'm a little reticent to call my fellow mommy friends at 3 am when they have lives and families of their own. I manage to figure it all out along the way.
My son will turn two in a week. Every night usually around 330 am he will wake and ends up in my bed. I'm too tired to fight at 3 am and I have to get up at 6 and head to work for the day. And function. Like a normal human being. Like many parents, I'm no stranger to waking up with feet in my face or almost falling off the bed because of toddler-sprawl. But somehow, when you wake up at 6 am to a grinning almost-two-year-old who grabs your face in his hands and plants the sweetest kiss on your nose, the 3 am wake-up call is almost forgiveable.
I don't feel like my experiences or circumstances are any more difficult than anyone else's. Hard is hard. Tired is tired. I AM awesome. Some days I'm not-so-awesome.
Today, I needed this.
to the tired mom
Rachael M. Martin
Last night my 4-year-old decided to sleep next to me.
He slept amazing.