For the first time in the three years that at least one of my children has been in school, I have decided not to attend their Valentines Day party. Three weeks ago when the parties were first announced I thought back to previous parties and how I had to drag my four-year-old around. Not the funnest thing in the world. I knew I didn't want to go through that again.
I can't mentally or physically handle my youngest putting up another fight with me at school.
My friend made me realize during one of our conversations why I've felt so apathetically exhausted as a mom in the last couple months: my kids have worn me down. As the result of being a stay-at-home-mother for nearly eight years, my mind is running on burnout juices. Part of me feels overwhelmed from the day to day task of raising three children very close in age and the other part of me feels like the odd one out being the only major estrogen producer in our home. The dog doesn't count.
How I feel right now is very similar to how I felt when I was in college. I had just finished the nine months of my senior year in high school, took a two week break, and then traveled on a Greyhound bus 1,603 miles and three days from Dallas, Texas to Rexburg, Idaho. I
And I had bounced the check to pay for said drivers license. True story.
So this year I'm not attending my sons' Valentines parties. In fact, I don't think I'm attending any more of their parties this year. Just like after twenty-five months straight of education, I am burned out. Lets just call it mom taking breaks in small doses before she mentally checks out. Their parties were scheduled for last Friday, but since it snowed last week our school district was closed both Thursday and Friday. Today the kids are making their missed parties up. The rugrat and I just won't be there.
I'll reconsider parties next year.
Yes, I am counting down the months until my youngest attends school. Five.
Then I am giving myself a much deserved break. Anybody with me?
PS: I was totally going to say that I felt like I was checking into the Hotel California at home and that I felt like even though I could mentally check out that I could never leave...you know, get a break...have a vacation. Then I looked up the meaning to the song and deleted it, because I found out that song has a different meaning, specifically, "The song is an allegory about hedonism and self-destruction in the Southern California music industry of the late 1970s; Don Henley called it 'our interpretation of the high life in Los Angeles' and later reiterated '[i]t's basically a song about the dark underbelly of the American dream and about excess in America, which is something we knew a lot about.'
Baby, I know nothing about having money or living the high life. Hence why I only have three kitchen chairs and a fancy discontinued camera. Oh, and I prefer Chicken Express to Wolfgang Puck.