Where I Throw Myself a Pity Party

 

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It started in the morning as I watched Justin get ready to leave the house.

That twinge of envy.  The brow that furrowed.  The heavy sighs as I ambled around the house wondering which mess to start with.

All the normal morning sounds that usually bring a smile to my face, grated against my ears and made my head buzz.

I walked around the house taking pictures in an attempt to shake it off (hence the otherwise irrelevant picture posted above) .

There was not enough coffee for that much-needed second cup.  The cream was curdled.

How many times can one listen to Raffi sing “Frosty the Snowman” and keep their sanity?

I looked longingly at the sewing room knowing that another full week might pass before I am able to submerge myself in blissful creativity.

What did I do you ask?  Did I rally my spirits and count my blessings?  No.  I threw myself a pity party.  I wallowed in it.  I swam around in a pool of “selfish-poor-me” until my fingers got all wrinkly and pruney.  I refused to be mature and reasonable.

The children oscillated between hysterical silliness and grouchy bickering.  I sent them to their rooms, and for an hour I lied every time they asked if it had been 20 minutes yet.

I wondered what must feel like to have a life that wasn’t always tethered by parental responsibility.  I daydreamed about packing an overnight bag and driving down a beautiful road that ends on a rocky beach lined with dark Cyprus trees.

I imagined a life were I could leisurely go into town.  I wouldn’t bypass the insanely long line at Starbucks knowing that it would cost me too much precious time.  I wouldn’t rush around with my jaw clenched, from store to store, trying to accomplish as much as I could in the few hours I had.  As I point the car towards home, I know that as I walk in the door with my arms full, I will be met by a pack of children who have been saving all of their questions, demands, and tales of woe for my listening pleasure.  Do I unpack the groceries or feed the crying baby?

And now we reach the climax of this pitiful post.  Where I switch gears and tell you the moral of the story.  But there isn’t one.  Not this time.  This is just real life, where not every day is fair and fun. No one’s fault, no blame to assign.  This is the flip side of the coin, the “equal and opposite reaction”, the shadowy side of the mountain.  I don’t make a habit of throwing pity parties, it’s not my normal frame of mind, but sometimes they happen.  And here on this page where I write about our life, about my life as a mother, I will  acknowledge that.

 

 

19 thoughts on “Where I Throw Myself a Pity Party

  1. Thelma

    Girl. I love it. LOVE IT. and if we’re totally honest, when has any one of us not been right there?! where there has been no neat bow to put on the story? where we’ve not disinegrated and ended up grouchy, with a headache, and a snarl for for the man when he walked in the door? I know I most certainly have. There was a day this week for me. Every sound the kids made reverberated in my head, where the kids staggered their naps so that I never had my down time, where I didn’t have a second ever to sit down at the computer and work. And where i really didn’t get anythign accomplished because I had someone walking after me whining and crying every time I put him down. Oh girl. I have those days.

    Reply
  2. jennykauffman

    love this whole thing! amen and just well, 1, 000 more amens. i loved that your climax was NOT a “learning lesson” with a neatly tied-up pretty ending. yup, real life can be pretty SHTANKY!
    great post!!

    Reply
  3. Audrey R

    Oh April, you should be like me, totally and completely committed to motherhood. Never a pity party in 6+ years of being a mom. There have been hard times, but I have always kept that smile on my face and praised the Lord anyhow. {cough, cough}

    Here’s to a great week ahead!! <3

    Reply
  4. Yvette

    Your honestly is refreshing and A reminder that we are not alone. We all go through times like this and it doesn’t mean we are loosing our minds but instead, that God’s grace abounds even in our less than perfect moments!

    Reply
  5. Rachel

    been there. done that. more times than i care to admit.
    and, like you said, there’s no moral of the story; it’s just real, raw life.
    you are a wonderful mom and wife April. i just know it.

    Reply
  6. Michelle

    I can’t even tell you how much I love your honesty. I kept kind of holding my breath, waiting for the paragraph where you turn it all around and everything is just sooooo hunky dory and I was secretly (well, until now) relieved when it didn’t come. ;) We all KNOW you got there … or will get there eventually. But sometimes it’s just good to hear that someone else had a really, really hard day. That we are all in these trenches together. And while I like hearing about rainbows, sometimes they come across a little too rainbowish and bright and quickly, as though they’re overtly justifying and covering up how bad it really was.

    Here’s to a week with a pot full of coffee every morning and fresh cream. Sometimes the little things can make a huge difference.

    Reply
  7. andrea esh

    This is so true April. Some days are great, and others just aren’t. And others I want to go to bed and sleep for days. Anyway–you said it well. :)

    Reply
  8. Sarah Porto

    I’ve never commented on your posts but have wanted to share for a while just how much I enjoy them. Your honesty here is refreshing and helps give us all perspective. And it reminds me of a Joyce Meyer saying….Something like “You’re allowed to go down in to the pit from time to time, but don’t decorate it.” So yeah, you went down there into the pit for a bit, but you seem to realize you can’t (nor want to) stay there and set up camp. Prayers for a more peaceful day tomorrow, or the perspective to get through it if it doesn’t pan out that way. :-)

    Reply
  9. Elizabeth

    April, I will just say this.
    In a few short years, when you are having a pity party, you will be able to say…
    “Children of mine, I will be right back. When I get back I want you to have the house picked up.” Then you will be able to get into your car, drive to that insanely long line at Starbucks…wait as long as it takes while you listen to an interesting topic on talk radio and have a peaceful cup of coffee. You will walk into a clean house and feel refreshed! Yes April, this is what you have to look forward to. :)

    Loved your post! btw.

    Reply
    1. Christy

      Is this true? I hope you’re not joking because I am now looking forward to that day immensely.

      April, I loved this post!

      Reply
  10. Lydia Jo Martin

    This is one of my most favorite examples of an honest blog post. I can be the queen of pity parties and I know that after I read this post I thought to myself, I need to talk about all the times that I’ve cried and pitied myself after having baby Olive.
    My pastors wife says about these toddler/little kid years…. “These are not the good years, the people that say these are the best years, they forgot” something like that and it makes me feel so good to hear her say that. I mean, the last thing you want to hear while you are at the grocery store with crying kids is that, “You will miss this someday” whether that be true or not! Anyhow thanks for this awesome post and I think it should be published in a magazine, maybe Parents! Ha ha.

    Reply

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