Sort of ironic that this week’s blog topic on Word Whores is about time, since that seems to be the one thing I just don’t have enough of. I hesitate to use the word burn-out to describe my feelings at the moment, but there it is.

And it seems silly to talk about it sometimes – there’s always someone who has it harder. But then I read articles like this and I begin to wonder at just what it is that I am doing. I mean, no, I don’t want to raise my kids that way…but I do feel as though I’m doing them a bit of a disservice with the way things are going. Some days I feel so utterly wrapped up in my own doings and constantly trying to catch up with everything that I cannot help but think they’re going to look back years from now and think “Why didn’t mom ever have time for *me*?”

At the moment, our lives are in a greater level of upheaval. Mr myn is in the process of being promoted. Unfortunately that means he’s working almost all midnights – he shows up in the morning as I’m heading out the door with the kids, and he’s leaving as I get home with them in the evenings. It takes a massive toll on me, because yes, there are many days where I feel like a single parent. I do mornings, go to work, pick them up, and then have a few hours in the evening (from 6:30  to 9) where it’s dinner, homework, reading, sometimes baths, and maybe play time if we can squeeze it in.)

I’d love to get one or both of them involved in additional extra-curricular activities. Last year, we had Connor in basketball and swimming, but that was a little easier when mr myn’s schedule was closer to mine. Even on his days off at this point, he’s mostly sleeping since it’s definitely hard to break that cycle of working all night/sleeping all day for the sake of a day or two, just to go back to it a few days later.

When I was growing up, my mother was a school teacher, so it was easier in some ways. She got out of work about the same time we did. We also lived in small town, so there was no 2 hour rush hour in the mornings or evenings. (I still remember her coming home and passing out in her chair for 20 minutes every day, so I suspect she was just as tired in some ways.)

Still. I get them into bed (assuming Lucy will stay there. Little girl is constantly getting up and down), and then I have a few hours to myself to do whatever. But I don’t really have time to do whatever, because that becomes my only time to write/outline/research – or right now it’s writing up guest posts and interviews – and some days I can barely keep my eyes open to do it. But it’s not like I can wait. Deadlines are deadlines.

And let’s not forget the complete pit my house has become. I’ve basically gotten to the point that when things fall on the floor, I don’t even pick them up anymore. I just walk right around it and keep going. Sad, I know. My garbage disposal broke last week. Still has power, just doesn’t grind anything and my sink keeps clogging up as a result. The garage door opener fell out of the ceiling about two months ago. My favorite bombe chest now has a nice hole eaten through the varnish because I had left a rubber back ball on top of it for a while. Looks like some sort of chemical reaction happened and poof. Instant hole.

Honestly. There are some days I’d just like to get in my car and drive away.

I’m sure tomorrow will be different.

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