Some Days

Some days it feels like my life boils down to a basket of unfolded laundry, and a trip to the grocery store, and correcting behaviour. It seems my life revolves around food preparation and then cleaning up. Some days it seems like someone always, always, always needs something from me. The dog needs a walk, and a brush, and fresh water. Dinner needs to be made, and then cleaned up. The kids need me to read to them and to get out the craft supplies and to zip zippers and to pretend to be a triceratops – No! A Transformer! No! We’re playing dinosaurs! But I want to play Transformers! – then they need me to help them compromise on a game. They need me to tell them not to scream at each other, then they need hugs. They need to be near me chattering away every second and they need me to listen to them. Some days it feels like I’m too stretched, I can never, ever fill all their needs because their needs are expanding indefinitely. No matter what I do it’s not going to be enough. Everyone needs something and right now. Some days it feels like this is it, this is all, which is wrong and ridiculous and I know I have a great life and I know I have nothing to complain about, I know, but there it is, a sea of domestic drudgery and I’m drowning in it.

Then my husband senses what kind of day I’m having and takes the boys out and returns with three perfect Gerber daisies, my favourite, and I feel small and petty and I think, well, it’s a full moon, maybe, maybe I will feel better tomorrow. And I do. I do feel better tomorrow.