Struggles

I am having one of those days where I seriously question my decision to stay home.

I am tired of needy children. I am tired of needy dogs. I am tired of cleaning the house. I am tired of puke and pee and poop. I am tired of little girl screams. I am tired.

It’s one of those days where I shop for part-time jobs. Anything to get me out of the house for a few hours a week. Doing anything. I almost don’t care.

It’s one of those days where I struggle to pay attention to and engage with the kids. I struggle to find the compassion and understanding of child development and the stages they go through and the things they must do in order to grow as people. I struggle to smile when I want to scream. I struggle chugging up and down the stairs with kids and dogs under foot and getting in each other’s ways and waiting on every. single. step. to make sure little ones don’t fall.

I wouldn’t trade being home for anything, I know that. I love being here for these kids and watching them grow and develop and learn new things. I really love it. There are days, however, where I feel completely trapped in this house. I am on call from the moment I wake up until the moment I go to bed. I am dealing with somebody wanting or needing something from me. I look at dirty floors and dog toys and baby toys everywhere, surprise puddles of spit up and spots on the carpets the dogs lick incessantly. Planning breakfast, lunch, and supper – cooking and cleaning.

I have been trying to find another kid or two for the daycare because I know that we are slowly bleeding money. I know that I’m not bringing in enough as it is. I’ve had a couple interviews for kids but things haven’t worked out with them coming to me. I totally understand. I’m not resentful. I am, surprisingly enough, really disappointed. More disappointed than I expected to be. I let myself get caught up in my “I’m finally going to bring in my share!” syndrome. We’ve talked over and over about this ridiculous syndrome. I am the only one who feels like I am not pulling my weight. Will I only ever be happy when I’m the primary breadwinner? Will I finally give myself a break when I hit some magical amount of money that I bring in that makes up for who knows what?

I think that’s really why I’m feeling trapped and looking for a job. I feel like I need to do SOMETHING to make more money since I can’t seem to find kids. Who knew? In a city such as this, there is a shortage of kids to find for my daycare? Or I’m just looking in the wrong places.

Somehow I have to get through my head that there is nothing I can do or say or earn or anything to either increase or diminish my family’s love for me. I am enough just as I am, just as I do. My house is good enough. My skills are good enough. And for now, my daycare is good enough. I don’t need to do more. I don’t need to be more. I need to just be me.

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