There, I said it. Out loud, well in print. This is not to say that I do not adore my family. Really I do. I love them more than words can say, but sometimes, I do not want to be Mama.
Sometimes I wish I could hand over the reigns for a little bit to someone else and start to rediscover who I am, under the layers of snot and years of sleep deprivation. See I can't. No one will be home to take my load. My load is mine.
Even as I am writing this Peas is pulling my hands away and holding them. I also have Pixie in my lap and Stinky calling me. I have yet to wipe up the floor, finish the dishes, laundry, do some reading with Princess, and get everyone to bed.
Logically, I should stop writing and get to work right? But I can hardly muster the motivation to think.
Mommy-burn out. Plain old mommy burn out. The feeling that I just can never get out from under the tasks that demand my time and attention. There is no getting ahead.
Torn between wanting to cry/scream or pull my hair out I am trying to figure a way out.