I seem to be invincible. To a lot of people.
So I’m going to give you the secret of everything I know, everything I do, how I manage to keep it all together with work, job, projects, and being a single mom.
Ready?
The secret is….sometimes I absolutely and utterly crumble under it all.
Sometimes the weekends aren’t so much a respite from the work week as a chance to get overwhelmed by everything. The dishes that never seem to ever be done. The dog and cat hair that collects around the floorboards like so many mocking little monsters, taunting me and the vacuum cleaner who cowers in the corner, longing for its home in the closet. The laundry that always seems like too much, never quite getting put away so that the occasional favorite pair of pajama pants becomes a victim of the dogs’ tug of war.
After travel, it’s inevitable that no matter how hard I try to keep everything put away before I go, a toy or a shoe gets destroyed by one of the pups, bored out of their skull while Mom is gone. Some furry person pukes on the couch or pees on the dining room rug. And so instead of walking in the door relieved to be in my own tidy house, I come back to a maelstrom of plastic shrapnel, ruined belongings, and messes to be cleaned up before my suitcase is even unpacked. It’s a house that I love, but that on most days I wouldn’t want anyone to see.
Weekends are time for Abby, too. A very precocious, demanding Abby. One that’s not quite yet independent enough to fully occupy herself while I prepare dinner, and can singlehandedly dismantle one room while I fruitlessly try to reassemble another. She is curious and adventurous and can throw the most wicked of temper tantrums that can shake the very foundation of my own confidence in parenting. At three and a half, we’re still wrestling with potty training and my nerves sometimes show signs of wear, because I wonder just what I’m not doing (am I gone too much? Do I work too hard? Was I absent the day they taught the magic formula?).
No matter the day, I feel a bit of the guilt for the email I didn’t get to, the checkbook I didn’t balance, the post I didn’t write, the project I didn’t work on, or the speech I should have better prepared.
Some will say that none of that matters. That none of that is really, truly what’s important.
But it is. Peace of mind is important. Having a home where you feel safe from the storms of the world is important, one where you can find comfort and give comfort to those you love. Feeling caught up to yourself and your world is important. Believing in your adequacy as a parent is important. It’s not the things or the moments themselves, but the sense of balance they do or don’t represent.
And so, sometimes, even after a second cup of coffee and a good night’s sleep, I just collapse on the couch and cry and wonder if I’ll ever, ever get ahead of it all.
Something happens then.
I crumble. I have my moment. I collapse in a heap and surrender to feeling sorry for myself and I cry until the tears won’t come anymore.
Then, I breathe. Shakily, at first. I flick the tears from my face, squeeze my eyes shut hard one time, and open them again. I clench my fists and release them. I look up at the ceiling, then down at the dusty floor. I ask someone somewhere to lend me a little bit of strength, a dash of will, a pinch of faith. I promise to give it all back when I have some to spare.
I look around me at the flotsam and jetsam of my little world. The dog sprawls on the loveseat, safe and sound from the place she would have been had I not found her in a shelter several years ago. The spot on the carpet fades a little bit more, one more load of laundry buzzes as it dries. I decide those shoes weren’t all that comfortable anyway, and the handful of fuzz along the floorboard gets swept out the patio door in a gust of crisp fall wind.
Abby comes to me and asks for a hug, and doesn’t care that she has to crawl over a pile of folded towels to come sit by me on the couch. She tells me she loves me, and asks if we can get a Christmas tree this year with a big, shiny star on top. And if we can go sledding when it snows. And if we can watch a movie, together, Mommy.
And I say yes.
Yes, we can.
image credit: Shayne Kaye

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