I took the day off to attend school conferences and spend time with my kids who had a short day. Instead, I sit here vainly attempting to write one coherent sentence of a three to five page paper due in less than 48 hours. Ironically, the paper will be an easy one to write as I feel passionately about the subject, but I’m blocked from putting a word on the page. The seconds I steal for laptop time are punctuated with ten minutes of referee duty for broken toys and broken feelings. For the past hour, every single minute has been punctuated with screams or crying, mine and theirs. Once again, I feel the dim nausea of doubt in the pit of my stomach. I have no business doing this. What was I thinking? Working full time, soldiering part time, and attempting school full time. When is successful parenting time? Many months ago I gave up vacuuming and regular bedding changes. It’s like District 12 here but with plenty of food and no electrical fence. There’s not much left to surrender. I power grocery shop in 15 minutes or less. I gave up exercising, dating, sleeping, washing my hair – all in an effort to squeeze more time into my day. I don’t know what more to give. In the time I furiously wrote down my feelings – 3 crying jags. “Ha, Ha,” says Count Von Count. “That’s one crying child. Two crying children. Three, a crying mom.”
Maybe sometimes Sesame Street is all you've got.