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Broke Wife, Big City
This part is
hard
By Aprill Brandon
Now before I say what I’m getting ready to say, let me say first that I
realize I am hardly the first person to ever say this. Thousands,
perhaps hundreds of thousands, or hell, maybe even millions of other
people have not only said this, but they probably said it much more
eloquently and with far less booger jokes than I ever could. But after
the week I had, I feel one more time is absolutely necessary. So, here
it goes.
This stage of life is hard.
Oh, so hard.
Not that all stages of life don’t have their hard parts. They do. I
remember the hard days possibly even more clearly than the
not-hard-days of my carefree childhood. Because even in the happiest of
childhoods, there are still monsters under the bed and playground
bullies and a big, big scary world to navigate while only having a
waist-high view of the big picture.
But this particular stage…oof. It can feel like a battle. A battle that
you aren’t even trying to win anymore but just trying to summon up the
will to show up for day in and day out.
War may be hell but raising small children is setting up permanent
residence there.
OK, OK, yeah, that one went too far. Sorry. I love my life and my
children and could not have engineered a more picturesque family life
if I tried. Most days I look around and can’t believe my incredible
luck that I get to be surrounded daily by the most amazing people to
ever walk this planet.
I’m just so tired, you guys. Oh, so tired. And no matter how great your
life is, there are bound to be bad days. And sometimes those bad days
stretch out for an entire week. And all this week I’ve been dealing
with a sick baby and a sick toddler and a partially incapacitated
husband who was trying his best but was also sick and still trying to
do his job and work on a freelance project in his spare time. To top it
all off, my stupid dog is getting old and was diagnosed with a heart
murmur and arthritis and I love my stupid dog so much and if anything
ever happened to him I would DIE.
Again, sorry. As you can tell, I tend to get dramatic when I’m tired.
No, YOU need to tone it down, missy!
There were doctor appointments and vet appointments and a million miles
walked around the house in the middle of the night trying to soothe a
miserable infant. There were too many tantrums to count and too many
meals that had to be made and too many arguments about stupid, little
things and too many loads of laundry and dishes and too many boogers
being wiped on my jeans (fine, mustard-stained sweatpants).
There were just too many tiny creatures needing tender, loving care and
not enough of me to go around.
And it all culminated on Friday afternoon when I had to pick the dog up
from the vet but since we only have the one car, I had to walk there
with one kid strapped to my chest and pushing the other one in the
stroller. The dog was straining with all his might against the leash
and the baby was crying again and I was unsuccessfully trying to steer
the stroller with one hand and the diaper bag weighed a million pounds
and my back was aching from the dog’s constant pulling and then the dog
zigged when I zagged and I dropped the leash and he took off running
and it was the ultimate nightmare scenario. I’m trying to chase him
beside the incredibly busy road while also trying not to jostle my
4-month-old too much or tipping over my toddler in the stroller.
Meanwhile, visions of my stupid dog as bloody roadkill kept flashing
before my eyes.
Long story short, I finally do catch the dog. And then I just stand
there. And cry.
And cry and cry and cry.
Cars zooming past, baby still crying, dog still straining, toddler
asking repeatedly “what’s wrong, Momma?”
And yet, all I can do is stand there and cry.
So, why do I bother sharing this horrible moment in my life? Simply to
remind those of you who are in a similar boat, who are juggling kids
and stupid, beloved pets and jobs and obligations and deadlines and
aging parents and house buying and internal demons and external hazards
and an aching back and a budget that never seems to stretch enough
while in the background a steady hum of news reports declaring the end
of the world is nigh plays continuously, that you are not alone.
This part is hard. But you showed up for today. You may or may not be
wearing pants, but hey, you showed up. Better yet, you managed to sneak
in some snuggles and a game of tickle monster and an almost coherent
conversation about dinosaurs riding in rocket ships.
We’re going to get through this. Just like how I eventually wiped away
my tears and continued on my way home, we’ll all eventually dust
ourselves off and keep going.
And in the meantime, let’s all take a moment to breathe deep and look
around and soak it in. Because one day all the noise will stop. All the
chaos will stop. All the craziness will stop. And we’re going to miss
it. You know we will. And we will wonder what we were ever complaining
about in the first place.
Can’t get enough of Aprill? Can’t wait until next week?
Check out her website at http://aprillbrandon.com/
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