Insanity of Motherhood

Motherhood, marriage, and midlife.



“The man who says he has an exhausted life generally means life has exhausted him.” – Oscar Wilde

Before I start today’s blog, I have to tell you it is going to be a rant.  Yup.  Just what the blogging books tell you over and over NOT to do.  Too dog gone bad, blogging books.  You do not have three boys to care for all summer long.  I can do what I want to do today.  And today I am going to rant, whine and moan.

Yesterday, was Father’s day.  I planned a wonderful day for my lovely husband and three boys.  I am going to feature the day on my Friday’s photo blog.  Without going into too much detail, I will say the event was something my husband and I have always wanted to do.  We should have done it when the big boys were little, but never got around to it.

I think you recall me telling you my four-year has been giving us some slight difficulties.  Okay, that is a joke.  The kid is making us crazy.  I am amazed how much havoc one little person can create in a family.  Because of him, what was supposed to be a pleasant, fun-filled day for dad, turned out to be trip to the dark side.

My husband and I cannot seem to get a grip on handling our little son.  We are pretty skilled parents.  We have two older boys, we have successfully gotten to teenagehood alive.  And yet the third one is kicking our butts.  Is it because we are older and have the “been there, done that” mentality?  Or is it because my little son, possesses superhuman powers to squash and defeat his parents?  I think it may be both factors.

Before we started our day trip there was trouble.  The little guy did not want to go.  It is ridiculous really, because we partly planned the trip with him in mind.  There was high drama, because he wanted to stay home and hang out with the dog.

Sometimes, we allow him to stay home from an event if someone is willing to stay with him.  But yesterday, we all wanted to go on our adventure.  We had to  convince our child, with bribery and force, to do something that was supposed to be fun.

As luck should have it, he fell asleep on the drive.  We all breathed a sigh of relief and enjoyed  a peaceful ride to our destination.  Upon arrival, we noticed a small playground area with a sandbox.  My little son wanted very much to play in the sandbox with his “friends”.  He is very social these days and loves to be around other children.

Playing in the sandbox, was a fine idea until it was time for us to move on.  Then it took a great deal of  discussing and in the end more drama, to get him out of the sand box.  The four of us, two parents and two teenagers, were starting to wear down.

Off we all set to our event.  The event was a whopping hour and let’s say it was fifty-five minutes too long.  About five minutes into the event, the little guy got squirmy.  Because it was Father’s day, I felt obligated to watch over him so my husband could enjoy the activity.  Needless to say, I did not last very long.  The frustration of caring for him, while everyone else is having fun wore me down fast.

I asked the big boys to help out.  That lasted about five minutes a piece and finally, poor husband was recruited to care for the little guy.  What was supposed to be a fun activity for the family turned into a huge amount of work.  Finally, I said to everyone that I would take my little son back to the darn sandbox, so everyone else could enjoy the day.

So there I sat on the edge of the sandbox, while everyone else had fun.  I am pretty easy-going, but I was getting worn out.  I waited, for what seemed like hours, for my husband and the boys to save me from the sandbox.  At last, the family rescued me.  At about this time, the little guy realized there was more to do than play in the sandbox and wanted to look around.  It was too late.  It was time to go.

As you can imagine, there was drama.  When he realized he missed out on some of the fun, he was disappointed.  I ran out of empathy for him quickly, because I too missed out on all the fun, sitting at the stupid…yes, stupid…sandbox.  My husband picked up the screaming mess (our son) and strolled out to the car.  The two teenagers lagged far behind us.  I am sure they did not want anyone to know they were associated with us.

At last, we arrived in the car and closed the door.  The tantrum continued for over thirty minutes.  As the big boys, husband and I sat in our seats, we each tried to calm and reassure the little guy.  It did not work.  We were all exhausted.

It seemed as if just a few mere moments before we arrived home, he settled down.  My husband and I were toast.  Our weary bodies made it into the house, with the little guy oblivious to our condition.  He wanted one of us to play with him.  We, of course said, “NO WAY!”

I could not help but wonder, “Are we all exhausted because of the little guy or is it because of being older and not having the stamina like we used to?”  To be honest, it does not matter.  We are all tired, very tired.

The energy it takes to care for our little guy is tremendous.  How will we do it?  I guess we will have to share the work, be more patient, set clear limits and  put him to bed early.  If those things don’t work, I may need to take a leave of absence…until someone turns five.

Author: insanityofmotherhood

Mom of three boys, wife, educator, and all around nice gal in the middle of a midlife something. It's not a crisis, but it's something…

2 thoughts on “Exhausted

  1. Oh dear! Oldest Sister is now VERY nervous about the upcoming visit, and the closest thing we have to a sandbox is a kitty litter box!

  2. Oh no! We have to make sure all the litter boxes are hidden! Not to worry, Aunt and Uncle will be two more people to keep the little guy busy. I think you better warn the kitties though!

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