Dirty Dishes: Thoughts On a Bad Day…Week

Why does the road seem like it goes uphill for miles and miles, and then downhill a single stride? I mean really? What the freaking hell is that about? One of us in the house gets sick, and then it snowballs until we are all knocked down. My son is in 1st grade and struggling to find his groove this year. Last year was cake, this year the cake ate him and then spit him out. This dark cloud has been following him around, and it seems to be affecting me as well. I struggle to figure out how to help him, when to be stern, and when to be tender.

It’s been a rough few weeks around here. But enough about me. How are you? Rough waters for you too? Do you ever feel like bad days come in threes and good days come for three-minute intervals? If so, I’m right there with you. Maybe it’s only because I harp on the negative for longer than I should. I think it’s the anxiety that takes a single incident and having it seep into the rest of the day. This terrible day then turns into a streak of bad days and before I know it I just want to be alone to figure out how to breathe again.

Someone once told me that hate and love share the same coin, and often embrace similarities we forget or purposefully overlook. Like energy, we put a lot of energy into both. Yes, of course, the energy is different, but the effort is there. If we hate something, could it be because we love something else so strongly. A belief, tradition, way of doing things. We love our personal traditions, when something threatens that, I get angry or fearful.

I stare at the dirty dishes overflowing the sink, something that is not that uncommon in this house. Each time I see it I have the urge to throw them all away and buy new ones. So it’s been a rough few days, even a few weeks. The dishes just top off the list. I found myself shouting at my kids who didn’t eat the dinner I made them, only to feel guilty and talk to them about why I was upset. I’m sure I’ll fall asleep tonight thinking about ways to make it up to them and why I am failing at parenting.

Time to take a step back and take a deep breath. Awareness that I’m letting the bad day take over can help, but it’s not enough. I need to plan some me time. Not couple time, not family time, not time with my girls, some singular me time.

Excuse typos, I didn’t read this over again. I have two kids at home with me at this very second, and this has taken me an hour to write with about 1,000 interruptions, and I just heard, “Mom. I spilled it,” so I gotta run.

Photo Credit Pixabay altered with Canva

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