It kind of hit me yesterday, after I spent three hours trying to wrangle six boys to just work on their robot, for heaven's sake, and stop playing with my three year old's toys, and just get it done because I am giving up major chunks of my life for this and you are stomping on the ground of my self-worth!
Whoops - did I say that out loud?
It isn't just robots. Or boys, Or housework.
Okay, it is mostly boys.
I am being crushed under the weight of meetings, practices, rehearsals, competitions, school, and housework. Not so much the housework, as the lack of housework. You know it is bad when your kids write "Clean Me" into the dust of the schoolroom desk.
I digress.
During the Lego meeting yesterday, my head began to throb to the cadence of "What Will We Do with a Drunken Sailor" (my Lego team was singing this song very enthusiastically - I don't really know why. I was afraid to ask.).
I growled out a couple of useless threats to get them to work, and bared my fangs a little ("I will bite off the fingers of the next person to pick up and play with that darn button sound Thomas the Tank Engine book!").
That was when I realized the terrible truth - I not only have lost my sense of humor, but the ability to feel joy.
Joy is not "fun". It isn't entertainment. It is the ability to enjoy life as it happens.
I don't have it anymore. And it is now my goal to find it again. I am going to reclaim joy.
I think a vat of ice cream, some good chocolate, and a week alone with a pile of good books could go a long way towards reestablishing it, but I am not holding out for the impossible here!
Okay, so I just had to remind my oldest son, my man-child, that he was speaking in a voice to raise the dead, which lead to the inevitable pained "why are you always persecuting me" drama on my son's part. Not boding well for joy, here.
I know it is out there. I am gonna find it!
