This bit of writing is an attempt to un-paralyse myself from a state of overwhelmedness (and apparent issues with expression).
Often when I walk into the supermarket I am suddenly stopped in my tracks by a sense of ‘what was I here for?’. Even if I have a list I am assaulted by the enormous array of stuff – stuff in season, stuff on special, stuff on display, new stuff, stuff the kids want, stuff I want, stuff that looks healthy…I am so diverted from my list that I ultimately leave having spent far more than expected on all the wrong things that when I get home don’t go together so we have to have spaghetti again.
This week is so full of stuff that it looks dangerously like it’s headed for spaghetti. Stuff I need to do, stuff I should be doing, stuff the kids want to do, stuff I wish I could do, stuff that won’t go away until I do it, STUUUUUUFFFF. I’m not in a good mood for lots of stuff OR spaghetti. I would rather space and a nice light salad.
Oh dear there go the church bells for midday, there’s only 2 hours left of Tuesday in the Schoolhouse and I’ve achieved nothing. I’m still at the, “what was I here for?” stage.
As my 5 year old said this morning when I surveyed all the things that needed to go in the car with us (swimming gear, library books, guitar, gymnastics leotards, my computer) “Mum we have too much things to do.” We do, I think. A bit too fucking bloody much things, and I keep sneezing on top of it all.
But wait, I should be grateful for the church bells. Now they have stopped and I’m surrounded by books and extreme quiet.
The stuff is all achievable and the extra things shouldn’t tip me over the edge. I shouldn’t have to get sweary and overwhelmed. Plenty of people juggle many more balls than I do. My Mum always did, with only the occasional, mild bit of sweariness. I don’t have a real job or any chooks or a garden or shearers to cook for. I don’t have to perform or meet deadlines or save lives or milk cows everyday. We don’t do as many after school activities as most. Today I have church bells. What is wrong with me?
Am I imagining all the stuff? Creating it in order to feel useful? If I have the time to sit here and analyse and write lists then clearly ‘too much’ isn’t the problem. If I did have too much I’d just be out there doing it. Maybe I have ‘too much expectation’ as opposed to ‘too much stuff’. Maybe I’m putting stuff in where it needn’t be – extra homework, extra cleaning, extra entertaining…
Apparently there are less bed bugs in an unmade bed. The cleaning only has to be done all over again tomorrow. We’re all getting impatient with homework which is probably anathema to learning. Kids need to take initiative and entertain themselves dammit. There we are, pressure off. Only it’s not; it’s still there, I feel it in my temples.
Is it that the spaces in my head are filling up with hayfever snot, giving the effect of an overcrowded schedule?
This trying to un-paralyse myself isn’t working. This post has no point or structure or conclusion.
Just spaghetti.
I guess some days are spaghetti days. Everyone else is okay with spaghetti, they love it in fact. It’s just me who berates myself for not being more creative or more devoted to nutritional health. Maybe tomorrow I’ll do better. Or maybe I’ll get takeaway spaghetti. Or worse, tinned spaghetti.
Maybe next week I’ll have a ‘put the slow cooker on get the washing out do a fitness class sort out the banking get something published’ kind of day.
That should balance things out a bit.
Categories: MUMblings, Navelgazery
Tags: lifestyle, motherhood, Parenting, things to do, too busy, too much stuff
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