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The One in Which I Refrain from Slapping a Mom

Yesterday, I was talking to an acquaintance who was going on and on complaining because her husband was out of town on business for two nights and she didn’t know how she was ever going to handle taking care of her two kids all by herself.

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I understand that it’s all relative.  For her, this was out of the norm and she was having a hard time handling it.  I get that.  But I honestly didn’t know how to reply to her.  I just stood there, blinking.  Was she seriously telling me how hard it was to care for two kids for two nights?  Really?  Try caring for six kids, every day and night.  Always.  I don’t have another parent there with whom I can split childcare duties.  And I don’t get every other weekend off like most divorced parents.  I’m not saying that I deserve sympathy or accolades or anything.  You do what ya gotta do.  No big deal.  BUT, please don’t stand there explaining how difficult your situation is to my face when you know what my situation is like.  Have a little consideration. 

In the end, I murmurmed a half-hearted, “That’s tough” to show that I sympathized with her struggle.  At least a little bit.  And then I made it a point to forget to give her my new address and phone number.  What?  I tried to be nice and Christian-like.

I know I haven’t been blogging much, but I have a darn good reason.  I’m losing it.  I’m totally losing it.  On top of being a single mom to six kids (which probably should’ve sent me over the edge a year ago), I’m moving in less than two weeks.  Ohmygosh, I have less than TWO WEEKS!  I have a TON of stuff left to pack.  My mortgage guy calls me every other day needing more information: bank statements, explanations of deposits, letters explaining why I’m moving to Florida (I sent a picture of our February blizzard with the caption “‘Nuf said”), etc., etc., etc.  I’m trying to tie up loose ends here – return library books, get medical records, take time to meet up with all the friends I’m going to miss.  Plus, I’m still taking kids to their baseball and softball games nearly every night.  After a week without it, I finally picked up my van today to the tune of $2400 (pass the smelling salts).  I’ve been working on a video to promote my new book coming out next month.  The video is hilarious, if I do say so myself, but I seriously can’t count the number of hours I’ve put into creating it.  Deep breath.

I feel like garbage because Lexi didn’t get a birthday party with her friends the past two years and I promised her one this year before we moved to celebrate her birthday and as a last hurrah with her friends.  I dropped the ball on that.  I can’t imagine trying to squeeze one more thing in (not to mention paying for it) and I feel absolutely horrible about it. 

I haven’t sold my house here yet and I’m not sure what to do about it.

I know, at some point, I’ll get moved and settled into a new routine.  I know I’ll find a better balance.  I know good things are in store and everything will work out.  I have an inner peace about that.  But on the outside?  Right now?  I NEED A CLONE!  I NEED MORE HOURS IN THE DAY!  I NEED AN EXTRA PAIR OF HANDS!  I NEED WINE!

On the bright side (and there’s always a bright side), I’m just about done with the video and I’ll be putting it up this weekend.  Spoiler:  In the video, I throw a full-blown tantrum in the middle of the grocery store while people look at me like I’m insane.  More good news is that it looks like everything is a go for my closing on the 23rd.  And my van is in tip-top shape for my long haul to Florida.  And just imagine, I’ll have a wealth of blogging material from a three day, cross-country drive with six kids, don’t you think?

So, for now, that’s it from Camp Meehan.  Now I need to make dinner, write two articles, and consider getting more than four hours of sleep.  Vaya con Dios!

Be the first on your block to own Dawn’s sure-to-be-a-best-seller, Because I Said So. Pre-order it now!

Don’t read Dawn’s blog here. It’s bad for you. (That’s reverse psychology. Doesn’t it make you want to read it just to be a rebel?)

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