My parents came up after visiting our family in Brazil on Sunday while Rick and I were attending my work wife’s wedding. They took over for my father-in-law, Joe, after taking an 11-hour flight followed by a 2-hour flight, and watched and cared for the girls until we came back. They were met by a very cranky and pretty intoxicated Camila (hello, 5 glasses of champagne starting at 8am plus other adult beverages because bridal party), and I proceeded to go to bed with angry, tired tears. Because I was super tired.
Wow. I’m just like my babies.
When I woke up on Monday, I felt awful about it and became instantly grateful for them being up here, helping us with the girls for a week. Well, mom is. Dad had to leave today so he could go back to work tomorrow. Adulting sucks.
Yes! I finally have some much needed help on days when I’m off from work! I can finally clean the house (did half today, the other half will get done tomorrow)! I can finally relax and not go into panic mode when both girls become cranky and inconsolable! I should be so happy! And yet, I’m not at the sweet spot of happy I imagined myself being in. Why? Of course, my mom is more than capable of helping me with the girls. My mom has been a huge help, an absolute treasure. My mom has entertained, changed, fed, burped, and rocked the girls into smoothness, washed bottles, helped me sort out and fold laundry, kept me much needed adult company… So why am I not happy, or ecstatic? Why don’t I feel like I won the lottery with such a rare treat – literal 24/7 help for 6 days?
Because, come Saturday, she’s going home. When Saturday arrives, mom will leave and Rick and I can kiss daily help goodbye, go back to juggling two babies alone on our days off, have to rush and stick to keeping our schedule with the girls on top of everything else.
I am not looking forward to Saturday.
I tried to bribe my mom into staying up here for, you know, the rest of her life. I tried bribing her with Lydia cuddles and River giggles, baby kisses and face slaps, fun bath times and Target runs. Nope. Mom has to go back to her pup Zoe, my handsome dad, and her Texan life.
In all seriousness, it’s really hard going back to reality when help leaves. I’m dreading it, cursing time for going so fast already. However, I have been enjoying mom’s company and have been making it a point to live in the moment for this week. I am trying so hard to not let this seemingly silly fact gloom over my head like a Negative Nancy cloud, trying to get as much done as I can while mom is here, that my soul feels tired. And a little depressed. I’m hoping this doesn’t mean a depressive episode is coming on soon – life doesn’t like to wait or cater to my needs and desires during those times. I would like to have my mom around if that were to happen, though. Maybe it would stop it from coming on altogether.
I’m sorry if I’m not making much sense, I’m very tired and full of dread. Happiness and gratefulness are in there too, just quietly refusing to mingle. Allow me my desperation moment, my “it’s not fair” roar.
Mom, please don’t go home on Saturday.