today

I have happier, cheerier, look at these great days we're having posts in my drafts folder, waiting to be finished up and posted from the last almost week. I simply haven't had time to finish them up, add pictures and what have you amidst the past weekend and few days.

And now I'm interrupting the happy, cheery, great days we've been having to butt in here and heave a great big frustrated sigh.

Today was one of those days.
One of the days that I think to myself a million times, I can't do this anymore.
A million times; I'm so tired of this.
A million times; This is just so unfair.
A million times again; I just can't. do. this. any. more.

And spent the majority of the morning in pitiful, feeling sorry for us, whining at God, disappointed in myself, frustrated tears.

I'm going to bed shortly after the kids tonight simply because my eyes are so tired from crying all day.

I'm just beat.
Literally feeling very defeated.

And the part that took me so by surprise today and what is so exhausting to me is that it wasn't even necessarily the actual physical stress of the day... it wasn't so much that Caleb decided to scream for almost two hours straight this morning or that I was also babysitting Daphne who decided to follow Caleb's lead and be a little extra clingy today or that in the midst of all of that I get a call to show the house -of course the first call in a week and a half, when I have two non-napping babies here and a tornado of a house- just an hour ahead of time. I had to turn it down. And then was feeling guilty and stupid about that. And then I hear back that okay, they'll come later after all, so I still have to get the house in order and be ready to leave at lunchtime. And then take the kids out for lunch but have McDonalds be so crowded that there isn't even anywhere to sit and Caleb is still fussing and crabbing because oh yeah, no nap!

It wasn't even all that.
Today was really no different than any other given day in the past four months.

I was just suddenly, overwhelmingly, feeling so done.
I crazily wanted to just throw a little tantrum and say, No. I'm not doing it anymore. I'm done with all of it.
I'm sick of it all. I'm sick of parenting by myself all week. I'm sick of always being the one who has to make sure the house is put together and ready for a showing, always of course while wrangling kids and trying to get them and all their crap out the door. I'm sick of thinking about this stupid house and wondering how much money we're going to have to say goodbye to in order to get on with this stupid show. I'm sick of missing my husband. I'm sick of only talking to him on the phone for five days at a time when I am so not a phone person. I'm sick of looking for a new house and being disappointed in everything we see. Everything we can afford at least. I'm sick of thinking about all of it.
And most of all I'm sick of feeling like an idiot feeling all of these things because hey, there are a lot worse lots in life.

I feel like I've said this all before.

All I kept thinking all afternoon was how at the end of my rope I felt today.
The closest feeling to that I remember was losing it the night before Savannah was born. I was so done, so miserable, there was no sign of anything happening anytime soon, and I had myself a little huge breakdown.
I felt the same exact way today.

God must have heard the desperation in my voice seven years ago because we met our daughter the very next day.

I'd love to say that again about today.