Mondays

I wrote this post last Tuesday. And while it's not technically current really, it is still emotionally accurate. Mondays. Man. Anyway, since writing this post, my week got a little better. And then a whole lot worse. (PS, and I *swear* entirely unrelated, would anyone like to have a discussion about rats? Because I have a wealth of knowledge about them now. And also, They appear to have a wealth of knowledge of the layout of my apartment. So.) Anyway, I'm back here on Tuesday, trying to pick myself up after a difficult Monday. And so, here is a little story about that. 

I'll also note that LAST Tuesday I ended up in a much more mature and enlightened place about this whole thing. Today I'm still in a fairly HULKSMASH EVERYTHING sort of situation. Which, healthy, yes? Anyway, here you go.

Yesterday was one of those mornings. Hugo and I slept in. (Until six. Don’t get too excited.) And I wok up feeling at once delighted, and also panicked. I was already behind on the morning. 

There was no cereal for breakfast. The kids wanted pancakes. I got halfway through measuring out ingredients before i realized we were missing half of what is actually required to make pancakes. A frantic search of the fridge yielded some eggs and left over fruit, so I got the kids settled at the table. 

Hugo ended his meal covered in breakfast and in need of a bath. As I lifted him out of his chair, there was a rather tragic diaper malfunction. So, I set him down, took off the diaper, and tried to contain the mess, and then went to get wipes. 

I couldn’t find the wipes.

In the ensuing bedlam of wipes! Where are the wipes. Hugo! Stay right here. oh crap! nooooo! Not on the carpet. Gah, where are those wipes. Didn’t we have three packs yesterday? I swear they were here? Dammit. Come back here! Hey! Don’t run away. Found them. In the kitchen, obviously. Oh, annnnnd there you go again, well, heeeey, at least it was on a towel this time. 

The day continued very much in this same vein. I was trying to get some work done but the internet was too slow, and nothing would upload. Then a call from the school: the afternoon program was canceled, could I pick up Stella early? (And when I got there, they told me that in fact, the afternoon program had not been canceled, and sorry for the inconvenience would I like to stay?) Interruptions various and sundry, all trivial and unimportant, yet one and again and again, until I feared my eyeballs would pop.

On the way to find a taxi for school pick-up I mumbled obscenities at the cars who failed to stop for a zebra crossing. All day I felt a tightness in my chest. My words were hot and short. 

The kids were cranky and tired. Bedtime approached and they walked like their feet were stuck in swamp mud. 

Here, help me clean up the toys, come on, let’s go, otherwise we’ll run out of time for a story. Hurry up. Into your jams. Coooooome on! DO NOT SPIT AT ME! OKAY! FINE! GET INTO BED! NO STORY! #*@&@(@)#)#*@*!@(@_#(@#*@

one.

two.

three. 

four. 

five.

breathe.

(i’m sorry i shouted at you that was not nice. shall we try again? come on, let’s have a hug.)

I went to bed early too, taking a book with me hoping for some stillness. 

And just as I drifted into sleep, in the silence was broken, scratch scratch scratch scratch. A rat above me in the ceiling. Scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch EFFING HULKSMASH EVERYTHING.

I kind of lost it. I felt totally defeated, worn down by the day, and the need, and the poop and the mother effing rats. RATS. This ongoing saga of gdeffing rats. But I should hold it together. I should be so short with my kids. I should get it together and be organized enough to have cereal for their breakfast bowls. And you know, i've been hitting room service pretty hard these days. 

 It shouldn’t be this difficult, I tell myself. You have all the help and the privileges you could ever need. And yet, it IS still so difficult.

Today I spent the day today thinking about systems, and streamlining, and maybe if I tweaked our schedule (schedule! Ha!) just a bit, it wouldn’t be so hard.

But, in the end, it’s not the system. It’s not the schedule. It’s just one of the costs of living here.

No matter how efficient I make myself, the internet would still be slow, cars would still fail to recognise pedestrian rights, the school would still be unorganised, shit would still happen, my kids would still stall bedtime, and rats would still invade my apartment ever quarter or so.

This is just real life. And I’ll try to let it go.

Writing this out, I understand a bit better now why everything was so difficult yesterday. I understand now that pressure in my chest, that feeling like I can’t exhale. 

Today’s been better. Kids running naked on the pool deck. The sun streaming red through the pollution. It's beautiful. I’ve found a pocket of stillness, and calm. I wrote this down. And now I fell better. (And, also no one pooped on the floor. So, there's that.)