Photo by Sven Mieke on Unsplash
Photo by Sven Mieke on Unsplash

Today is the day after the night before I threw an epic wobbly. I’m ashamed, embarrassed and cross with myself for loosing it in front of the kids. Chalk it up to yet another “not my finest hour” in the parenting department.

It had been building up. The frustrations of the day, the broken appliances, and breaking furniture, the job, the virus, the stress, the constant noise all compounding with every sibling fight, every scream, every nagging call of my name, every news headline, every work deadline, every pleading request for the kids to tow the line.

For the past 7 weeks there has no longer been a break between work and home, week and weekends, between me and motherhood, hell it even feels like there is no break between night and day.

And sometimes it’s all too much.

I’m pretty sure, the kids are going to be discussing this with their therapist one day, and I’ll be the butt of the jokes at very close, intimate, regular family braai’s. (Here’s hoping)

“Remember the time Mom lost the plot while while bathing, and she ended up throwing all her shit – her book, her creams and lotions and even the foot stool – all over the bathroom. Hahaha”
“And then she just laid right there on the on the floor on the bath mat with her head on a pile of laundry for like ever”.

Things eventually settled. I calmed down and felt like I had run a marathon, in mud, backwards. I was done for the night. Aiden stepped up, took charge and when I woke this morning I found Ava snuggled up in bed next to her big brother, both looking so cute and angelic.

I don’t want to do that again. This lockdown is bad enough without them having to see me lose it. But there is nowhere for me to go, no quiet place of solitude where I can work through my shit. Unless it’s between 4.45am and 6am when I get up to have my quiet time, and only if the kids don’t miraculously wake early. If I am feeling pent up frustrations it better only bubble to the surface between 7.45 and 8.30am when I get to go out the house for a run or walk… but with kids because well you know, you can’t leave them home alone.

I know what I’m supposed to do; look inwards, breathe, reframe but seriously, this is the current reality of restrictions and it’s turning me into a raging tiger who just wants to break free and roam.

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