I don’t want to play anymore, enough is enough

I don’t want to play anymore, enough is enough

The alarm goes off at 5 am, by the time I’ve pushed the snooze button 3 times, it’s almost 5:30.  I roll out of bed wishing I wasn’t counting down the clock since 4 am, going over and over in my mind what I am supposed to do when I wake up.

“Don’t forget, don’t forget,” echoes in my mind and then I take note of the clock again- 4.20.  “In less than an hour, the alarm clock is going to go off, please go to sleep,” I tell myself.   By the time I stop remembering to look at the clock, it 4:45.

I make my way on the couch with my phone and laptop.  I put on the water heater and grab a blanket.  I don’t know why I have to grab a blanket in the middle of summer, but somehow, it makes me feel more comfortable so that I can focus.

I work for two hours until it’s 7.  Sometimes the kids are still sleeping and I can actually have a bath alone or better yet, on time.  On my morning commute, I make all the calls I need to before getting to the office.  I make calls that I am forced to make because driving forces me to do just one thing with my hands-drive.  I don’t have a choice but to make calls in bumper to bumper traffic and to be honest, I get pretty irritated doing nothing while still having tons to do.

“Don’t forget, don’t forget,” echoes in my mind again.  I can’t write while driving so I leave myself voice notes to remember.  Sometimes, I forget to check my voice notes.

When I get to my office, I go through most of my 50 emails that have come in from last night.  I’ll be getting about 60 more as the day progresses.  And that’s just emails from one of my jobs.  In between, I am still checking my other emails, responding and acting on those.  It used to drive me crazy leaving emails unopened, sometimes thinking about it makes my gums itch, but now I just have to get over it, because sometimes, answering  over 100 emails a day is impossible.

Sometimes I get home after 8.  I made a promise to myself to be home by 7, that was when school was in session and I’d have to do homework.  Now that summer is in, I straggle in later.  I don’t want to be away from my kids, but sometimes there’s just one more thing you try to strike off of that list.  Oh that “list” thing; that list of endless tasks, the never-ending agenda; that list that used to be so easy to complete. Like the emails, I’ve had to get over leaving items on that list too.  There will never be a day that there is not something to add to it- one off, one more to go.  I’m not that kind of once it’s over it’s over, kind of person.  I’m the keep going, keep learning, keep doing, kind of person; let’s see what I can create, accomplish and learn today.  It’s a blessing and a curse.

I walk through the door, take off my shoes, wash my hands and my kids want to play, my four-year-old especially.  She usually wants to play mommy or sisters, mermaids, princesses or pirate dress up.  I want to play too.  I love hearing her giggle and play.  We play for a bit but it’s never long enough. “Come on, come on, come on,” I hear her say.  And sometimes, I just want to say, I’m sorry, I don’t want to play.

I feel guilty for feeling that, thinking that, for hinting that and sometimes even almost saying that.  “Don’t forget, don’t forget” echoes in my ear yet again and my thoughts whisper and remind me that one day she won’t want to play.  She won’t be 4 forever, and my son won’t be 8 for long.  I worry that I’m not spending enough time with them, feeding them enough organic food, fruits and veggies, making them get 10 hours of sleep a night.  Maybe I don’t read to them enough, sing to them enough; we don’t craft enough, explore enough, and eat together enough.

Then its bedtime and it comes as quickly as day and night for me.  We follow the routine: pee-pee, wash hands, brush teeth, read book (sometimes) and bed.  Sounds simple enough, but it’s not.  “Come on, Come on, Come on,” I say over and over.  Ironic, in know.  After singing “we are the dinosaurs” 6 or 7 times, she finally finishes brushing her teeth.  Most of the time she wants me to lay down with her.  I’m reluctant because I know, I’ll fall asleep too, but I do it anyway.  My thoughts consume me again and I start thinking the same things…..I’m not doing enough, playing enough, being enough. And I hate the word ENOUGH.  I don’t feel enough a lot of the time; does anyone feel enough all the time?

Enough is enough.  Enough is when you call it, when you’ve learned to be ok, most of the time, with the never-ending list of things-to-do, the never-ending stock pile of emails left unopened.  Enough is being ok with not wanting to play anymore.  You’re tired and it’s ok to be tired.  Enough is giving yourself permission to be imperfect; leaving things left undone.  Enough is having the courage to say the truth, being the best mother you can be, most of the time.  Allowing yourself the opportunity to be better next time, and understanding that your love is not measured by how many games you play, books you read or veggies you feed your kids.

Love & Hugs,

Bianca

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