Burnout on the Sun

 

A mass roundup of April pics and catch up posts is coming, but not this week. 

It seems ridiculous to me that my cute little baby is almost 6 months old and I am still in survival mode, but it it's the truth. We had a few hopeful weeks with a 4 hour night stretches in there but I'm on like day infinity of holding a crying baby into the early hours of the morning followed by 60-90 minute spurts, if I am lucky. It's not just the baby who isn't sleeping. NO ONE is sleeping. Any given hour of the night, at least one child is up. Last night it was Q standing over me, crying that she is tired. What in the world is going on?  We can't figure it out. But the combination of storms, a bladder infection, earache, some who wet the bed, "I forgot to study for my social studies exam tomorrow", "did the tooth fairy come yet?", bad dream, cutting molars, "there's a moth/wasp/spider in our room", and did I mention crazy storms? They're all part of night time trauma last week and I don't know how much longer I can last. 

There were several years when I got along quite well on 3 hours of sleep a night, but not anymore. One kid not sleeping is normal, but no one sleeping and multiple kids up multiple times a night plus baby up every couple hours is breaking me. 

I am so. Crazy. tired.  

Like so tired that the night of my birthday when Baby woke up, I sat up in bed and then fell over when I tried to stand and then just sobbed hysterically to Aaron from the foot of the bed because I am stupid tired and couldn't move. Aaron has been leaving for work between 4 and 5 am so he's exhausted too. Plus his allergies are causing him to snore, so he's waking me, baby, and himself up regularly with horrid snoring and I'm mean and cranky and shush him all night, but seriously.  I fell asleep while parked at the grocery pickup on Monday.  And last night I put a pillow over Aaron's head and "slept" with my own head sandwiched in pillows, too. 

I'm in crisis mode and fully aware that it is not sustainable. This isn't even survival mode because it's not surviving. I'm failing everywhere. The kids are a wreck and are crying almost as much as I am.  No sleep is hard and six kids is hard I wish it wasn't hard and that I could handle it as well as I know I should be able to but I can't. This frustrates me.  I don't know what I can do better to get my family out of this eternal season of living in extremity.  It feels like I have been living on the sun since Sloane was born.  Sure, there have been a few short seasons with cooler climates, but we always seem to return here where the heat is up and pressure us on. 

Is this where the phrase mom burn out comes from? I'm toast. Brain fried. Body fried.  Wilted weary weepy wrinkly bit of dehydrated Meg.  Springtime usually breathes so much life into me, and I do have so much gratitude this year, too. The green outside, the flowers and the fragrant wild jasmine/honeysuckle are keeping me  alive. They are my reminders by day that God sees me, and loves me.

But I go to bed every night dreading the calendar of appointments I wish I could just cancel.  I miss running twice a week but even if I had the kid free time to go (I don't) I'm seriously too tired to even think about exercise. I know why people homeschool, or at least why I would consider homeschooling if I felt it was best socially and academically for the children.  I want to fire my calendar. 

I fell asleep on the boys bedroom floor the other day while looking for Corbin's Field Trip shirt that has gone AWOL on us. My glands are swollen up like golf balls and my mouth and throat are full of blisters.  

I know I'm being whiny and ungrateful and that's annoying because ingratitude is gross and I have a super wonderful life. But I'm writing this here because to immortalized my reality. A friend who is also in crisis mode recently said to me that I never ask for help or am honest when I'm drowning.  I will admit that asking for help is very difficult for me, but I do feel like I have been pretty honest about my state of sanity when friends ask.  Especially if someone is asking me to help with something. If I can do it, I say yes. If I can't, and I mean really can't, I say no. But my friend said that the fact that I'm still smiling or helping other people implies that I'm doing great. I disagree. Do we have to be off putting and in a complete state of selfishness to prove we are in a struggle? Ha, I'm nearly there, so maybe... 

But I do WANT to help others and be a better friend and more patient with everyone. I'm just  currently at maximum capacity. 

So this is my super honest declaration: 

Meg is broken right now. 

It was bound to happen eventually. I've made it this far because I honestly powered through for as long as I have because Inbelieved sleep was just around the corner. Now that Aaron and the children aren't sleeping either, I'm cracking. 

I still love my life, to be clear. 

I just. Need. Rest.  

I have a mile long list of people I want to serve, needs of family that I want to tend to, and personal growth projects I feel like I should be germinating, but it's like I'm in a time warp of arrested progress where I'm useless in almost every non critical role and falling behind at best in the super important ones.  And one will argue that "you're doing what is important, let thenother stuff go." But seriously, I'm only chasing sleep and my net has holes. 

And so my beloved dear children, and close friends who are going through big things, I'm sorry I cannot get it together. I want to help you so badly, and I wish my energy and time we're not as limited as they are. 

Also, Corbin, I looked for that missing field trip shirt for hours. HOURS.  I even caught up on the laundry in the middle of the night while I was up with your brother. I've torn this house apart searching. The shirt has disappeared into oblivion. I know it's just a t shirt, but I guarded it all dang year long in its very own drawer just so you wouldn't be that kid who lost his shirt when field trip season finally came along and low and behold, it disappeared on Friday after the first field trip. It makes me feel crazy that in spite of my efforts to protect you from the effects of my exhaustion, you're still that kid with the missing shirt.  

My motto for age 35 is to "look up, not around". Hopefully I will reach a point where I don't care about that stupid missing shirt. I want to look up, for approval, not around. 

Or I just look at the back of my eyelids because they need to be closed. 

Mr Snuggles just went back to sleep in my arms. Big kids are home but Sloane is still napping for another 20 minutes. I'm turning on Curious George and closing my eyes.  

Peace out, April, your nights were cruel to me.