Continued

So the reason I had to do so much laundry is that Addie has sort of slacked on being potty trained. I think she is really upset because (a) each day I put more of our stuff in boxes and (b) mommy and daddy have been extra busy/distracted with the move coming up. Whatever the reason, she has at least one accident every day and wet the bed about 4 nights in a row.

Of course, each bed has only one alternate set of sheets, so I had just finished laundering the spares and put the fresh regulars back on when she first wet her bed, then came to our bed and wet it, too. It even got to the mattress, so Tuesday instead of doing all the progressive, important, and fun things we had planned, I shampooed the mattress with the cleaner we have on loan from the in-laws. But the little puddle was still visible after the first cleaning, so I made a spray bottle solution of laundry detergent and bleach (very diluted) and sprayed it on the pillow top. All of a sudden, any and all pee stains turned the color of rust and I panicked! I had to shampoo with all my might to get it all clean and that took another hour, which eliminated Play School time.

Meanwhile, I am scrubbing away and Addie finds the spray bottle--WITH BLEACH IN IT-- and starts dancing around the beddroom squirting it and chasing Heidi.

Now, I immediately know it is my fault for leaving it on the nightstand, but I am so angry, so at the end of my rope, I just stop shampooing, remove the bucket of dirty water from teh shampooer, take the spray bottle from Addie, and then go to the kitchen sink and cry like a little baby. I cry because I am so stupid that I left a spray bottle in a three-year-old's reach and who knows what she runined that I can't afford to replace? And I cry harder because I can't keep up with her, because I have to pack up this house and finish the new one and still do laundry, make dinner, play with my kids, remain calm and patient, help my YW be ready for their Wyoming pioneer trek on Monday, and come to terms with being a second-rate member of my local family, an inept mother and wife, who --one of these days-- is gonna get reported the the mommy police or something for being such a loser. I cry because my girlfriends and sisters who have been in this exact same position, who would come over and play with my kids while I tried to catch up with my life, are all hundreds of miles away, as is my mom, who--although she has made me cry before--would totally understand why I am hunched over the kitchen sink sobbing on a day like today and not even think I was a terrible person.

I scrambled to think who I could call for help and realized the answer is no one, so I said a little prayer and sucked it up. I talked to my mom a couple of hours later and felt relieved that I'd had the foresight to arrange for a babysitter so I could go work on the new house and feel some relief.

It all worked out. And please don't think I just want to get away from my kids, because I don't. I miss them after about 30 minutes and realize that I could never go back to work. What I want to get away from is the constant reminder that I am a lame mom. Chaos does not become me. I hope that surviving this move--surviving this who building project--will give me the self-confidence I lack. And the peace and sense of order I crave.

Okay, I just reread that, and I think it sounds like now is the time I break into song--you know that song that Julie Andrews sings as Maria Van Trapp when she is heading out to be the governess of SEVEN children!

Oh, I must stop these doubts, all these worries

If I don't I just know I'll turn back

I must dream of the things I am seeking

I am seeking the courage I lack

The courage to serve them with reliance

Face my mistakes without defiance

Show them I'm worthy

And while I show them

I'll show me

All of that said, I reminded myself yesterday that a little bit of special attention goes a long way with the kids. I held Addie and played with her and read to her during Heidi's nap and she was a little sweeter. Still having accidents, but not trying to kill me.