Life’s greatest blessing

Maybe there is another occupation as emotionally out of control as SAHM, but I can’t imagine what it would be. I’m tired. I want a vacation. Sometimes I want to quit. More often than not, I feel like I can’t do it, like I’m failing. The loneliness is the kind that leaves you devastatingly alone, though you never are alone, are you, because you have zero privacy. I’m overwhelmed today, because of the never-ending-ness of it all and because of my resentment for my poor husband, who, though he works 12 hours a day swapping from days to nights, still seems, in my eyes, to have days off, to have hours to sit and watch any show he wants while I have to continue to care for entertain, and teach my child. I literally don’t get breaks or weekends days off or nights off. Some days I just want to cry. And let’s not forget, no, we can never forget the crippling agonizing heavy weight of guilt. I feel guilty for not taking her to more playdates, guilty for not having her in church more, guilty for letting her watch two hours of TV strait, guilty for still not being able to cook, guilty for having a dirty house, guilty for not having the energy or desire to sleep with my husband, guilty for not keeping in contact with friends and family, ohhhhh the list goes on and on until your thoughts go places you don’t dare talk about. Then, as you’re washing dishes or doing laundry or sneeking to the sink for a quick glass of water, you look over and see your kid dancing. That’s all. Nothing earthshaking, but it changes your day. It touches your soul in a way you can’t explain. Something about that adorable, sunshiny innocence makes you check your desire for one moment of time for yourself, once again, and you dive back in. Her magical smile makes you swallow and forget yourself again for a few more days. Somewhere, somehow, an energy forms within. Not an energy, really, more of a will. Guilt hits again, because you’ve been frustrated all morning, but this time it’s mixed with sunshine. You take her hand and dance with her, you hug her close. You once again start planning activities, something that you were unable to do 5 minutes ago. You realize there’s nothing in this world you want more than to be there with her for the rest of her life, but knowing it won’t be that long, only a few short years more. That thought lingers long enough to pull you through her tantrums and spitting when you tell her to put on shoes and brush her teeth. You move through the day in a kind of fog of love and exhaustion and you know the deepest, purest, sweetest blessing that there is in this life. And you think, “I want another one.”