Losing It

So. 

I need to be real here. 

I read this article a few days ago. 

I read it because the first line caught my attention in a way that something must in order for me to give it more than three minutes of my time. 

This. 

As I read, I saw more lines that spoke volumes. 

This one. 

And, this one. 

Some days, I feel like I've lost it. It, being my patience to get through one. more. minute. without crying or running away or screaming. Or doing all of the aforementioned. 

My children are not terrible.  NOT even close. 

They are precious.

Jack, especially, is oh-so-loving. He is my little buddy. My shadow. My tag-along-pal.

Ella is still smiley and squealy and snuggly.  Her chubby cheeks get kissed and caressed as often as she's awake. 

But, they are 19 1/2 months and almost 7 months. They are little. They need me. A lot. And, it's exhausting. Physically and emotionally. 

The Husband was released from light duty a few weeks ago, and my days that were already tough have become tougher. I know that sounded complain-y.  That's because it was. 

He's now gone from 2:30pm to 11:30pm five consecutive days a week. 

Now, for those of you without young children, that probably doesn't sound bad. 

But.

If you, like me, have one or two or God-bless-you-three (or more) little ones, you know that those evening hours starting as early as 4pm can get ugly. And fast. 

If I didn't have some sort of schedule and routine, I'd be bonkers by now. 

The toughest time is dinner, bath, and bed because if Ella's off her routine, she's miserable, and it makes us want to rip our ears off. Us, being me. It makes Jack concerned, and he pats her or let's me know she's crying by whining loudly, too, while pointing in her direction as if he thinks I can't hear her wails.  

It's helpful. 

Not.

Wow. 

I just dated myself. 

Whatever; "not" is still a perfectly acceptable response. So is "whatever."

Not. 

So, while the mornings usually go pretty smoothly, as soon as they're both up from afternoon naps, the rest of the day can go one of two ways. 

Smoothly, with few hiccups and lots of laughs. 

Or. 

To hell, with lots of hiccups and many tears. 

Both are usually followed by me collapsing on the couch while trying to decide if eating and showering are truly important. 

So, you can imagine my relief when I read that article. 

First, it was great to read that I'm not the ONLY one who loses it. 

Second, that it CAN change. 

Third, that it will possibly and hopefully affect my children's behavior, as well. 

We can control our reactions to our emotions.  I forgot that. 

I'm typing this at 2:30pm, and it's already been a tough day. My countdown has begun earlier that usual. 

I'm already imagining the worst, but I know that my reactions can dictate how this evening goes, even if their reactions don't mirror mine. 

It's now 4:45pm, and although the countdown is ticking away, my children are mostly content--Ella nursing and Jack playing with his Pooh Bear and puppy.  In an hour, I'll have dinner almost ready and will be getting Ella down (fingers crossed) for a cat nap. Then, Jack will eat (maybe I will, too), I'll give him a bath, we'll read 5-10 books, and he'll go to bed. If Ella has cooperated and isn't screaming bloody murder, I'll grab a drink, transfer the laundry into the dryer, then I'll wake her to eat and go back to sleep. 

Then. 

I'll breathe. 

I need to do more breathing like the article suggests.

Lots more inhaling and exhaling. 

Maybe, then, I'll find what I've lost.