Forgive me if I am about to complain too much.
It could be that Faith didn't go to bed last night until after 1:00 for some mysterious reason. Then James woke up an hour later and when I sleepily felt of his skin I realized he was warm. He was running a fever and didn't feel well, he just wanted to lay on me as I rocked him. I gave him some baby motrin, a bottle, and my chest to lay tiredly on as we watched some middle-of-the-night television. Jeff, who wakes up at 4:00 every morning, found us on the couch and encouraged me to go back to bed. I couldn't fall asleep for another hour after that, though I was exhausted.
Or maybe I'm not in that great of a mood because after turning around my eating habits I've completely fallen off of the wagon. As my friend Mandie would say, I've fallen off the wagon and it has run over me. With Jamie's birthday and then Faith's less than two weeks later and then my own following hers less than two weeks again I sort of gave up on the idea that I could do autumn healthily so I've stopped trying and now I feel my pants fitting tighter, but you know what? Maybe I should lay off the popcorn at 9:30 at night. I know better. I KNOW BETTER. That's what bugs me the most, the backsliding.
It could be the lack of money. It could be that when I do feel inspired to find a job (even though Jeff and I decided that I should wait until after the first of the year) there is nothing, I mean NOTHING, around here. It could be that going away for the weekend without the kids was so enjoyable that now that I'm back to the whining and diapers and constant meal making and nap times that don't seem to happen that I'm disappointed. It could be that I'm disappointed for being disappointed, because that makes me a crappy mother. It could be that I didn't wash my face or brush my hair until after noon today, instead I just crept around here in my over sized sweater clutching a coffee mug, even though I will freely admit that I had the time, I just chose to not do it.
Blah. I am depressing myself.
Whenever I have days like this, a little funk that comes and goes, I always try to cover it up. I don't want Jeff to know because my bad moods drag him quickly down and then it becomes a Big Thing. I'm afraid he'll think it's something more than it is, so I try to fake happiness then I become resentful and boohoo, I just want to lay face down on the bed and tune the world out. Instead I held Faith close for awhile while James fake-cried to get to us and Faith, in some strange perceptive way, turned to look at me as if it were the first time she had really seen me all day and reached out and patted me, then turned away. And then it was as if a switch had been flipped. I splashed water on my face, combed my hair, and did laundry, washed dishes, made lists, held kids, and just started moving and feeling alive and normal again.
So maybe I am a crappy mother, but I have wonderful kids and they balance out everything.