Just weary

You know, I am not perfect. Far from it, in fact. I am also not terribly patient despite whatever image you have decided to create about me in your head. Most days I hold it together pretty well, other days, not so much. Sometimes the accumulation of little annoyances which get the better of me. Today was one of those days.

One of the things you just don't think about when you are adding to your family and are busy and focused on many young children is the sheer length of time that is ahead of you. I've been actively parenting children for twenty-eight years now and still have six more years before the youngest turn eighteen. There are some days I am just weary.

Weary of not being able to assume that something I have set down will still be there when I come back for it. (It rarely is.) Weary of still being in the routinely breaking dishes phase of life. (We lost another corning ware dish today. We now have three lids and one container.) Weary of having things just vanish. (A new book I ordered arrived a few days ago and when I went to get it because I needed to use it, it is not to be found anywhere. I have a bad suspicion that some child returned it to the library, though D. has looked through the returned books to no avail. He'll look again tomorrow for me. [What will I do when he no longer works at the library!?] )Weary of still stepping over toys strewn around the house. Weary of the perpetual bickering about who ate whose special food. Weary of too much unthinking investigation. (No, I don't know who decided to play with the thrush medicine in the barn. There are now bright purple splotches around the tack room. Though if I'm telling the truth, this didn't happen today, but a while back. It still rankles.) Just weary.

I'm not sure fifteen years ago I quite realized what a marathon we were embarking on. Most days things are fine. I do love and appreciate my children. But it is still a marathon. Adding some children with special needs into the mix just adds to the challenges. Today J. and I were discussing the possibility of going away just ourselves for one night. We could really use that. I'm just not sure how we navigate being able to leave R. for even one night. And then to have all of this during a pandemic without my usual support systems available? I am weary.

I will go to bed, read a book, and go to sleep. Things will look better in the morning, I know, because I've been here before. But boy, it would sure be nice if I could find that book!