For me, Labor Day is just another day of cleaning and trying to drive it through the head's of the people I live with that
- I am not their maid
- I am not their servant
- that they do not clean up after themselves just to keep me from getting angry (and they usually only clean after I AM angry), but because they need to be responsible for their own messes. That way, when I DO clean up after them, it is a gift from me to them, not the last-ditch effort to hold to my sanity.
It is one of those days. ArtGuy is in Virginia for a family wedding, which is great for him, but sucks for me.
It has been years since I had a real vacation. I am really feeling the strain of that.
Searching for joy and meaning. Somehow, I have lost my hold on these things.
I know - everyone tells me this is a phase, and some day the kids will be grown and gone, and I will look back on these days with nostalgia. I understand what they mean, and appreciate the encouragement. But my father and sister both died at 42. They didn't get to "those days". Not that I am predicting an early demise for myself, but I just know that long life is not a guarantee. Some times it scares me that this may be all I have. I want to know joy again.
But of course, this attitude just makes me feel like a terrible mother. What kind of mother needs regular breaks from their children? Not that I get breaks, but it sure feels like that would be what I need. Breaks from my kids, and time with my husband. I know, I know - to quote one of my favorite movies, The Castle - "She's dreamin'"!
Well, maybe this rant is enough to just get me through the day. Cheaper than therapy!