For the past four weeks (since I returned to work) I have been running–running out the door to make it to work on time, running out of my classroom to feed Rachel during my 30 min. lunch break, running back to school to beat the bell and open my classroom door for my next class, running errands, running to the babysitter’s, running our house. I’m tired.
As stressful as it is to feel stretched this thin, it is more than a little arrogant for me to feel as if I am needed by everyone to be everywhere at every given moment. The truth is, it wears me out but it also makes me feel important. I refuse my husband’s help, preferring to sigh heavily while I wash the dishes and fold the laundry in the hopes that I will elicit some pity.
The truth is, not everything depends on me. I let Paul pack for our trip to Bloomer last week and everything went quite smoothly. I let my Mom clean our house last weekend, and I enjoyed this week a lot more as a result (although I didn’t get to pull the “poor me” card quite as often as I would have liked!)
The truth is, I wake up to a sunrise I didn’t initiate and go to bed in a house I didn’t build. We get through the week just the same regardless of how quickly I get the laundry put away or how frequently I scrub the kitchen floor.
It has been a long, exhausting month and even as I write this it is time for me to go to bed. I have to resist the urge to stay up late doing things that can wait–the dishwasher is clean but not put away and there are still dishes in the sink, the laundry is done but not folded, the papers have not been graded. I have to resist making it worse than it needs to be in order to win some sort of busyness competition or elicit more sympathy. I am reminding myself to be thankful for the beautiful girls, the happily employed husband, the little house, the ideal job that not only fill my time, but make my life more full.