Where Are My Lost Marbles?

In the last two weeks I’ve stayed offline from blogging and doing lives on Garden of Loves Facebook page. I normally take great joy in blogging its great therapy. It tones down the millions of thoughts that annually run through my head. Anybody that lives with anxiety and depression knows that the constant thought process can be exhausting. It never ends with worrying or making up the worst case scenarios possible. On top of this in the last two weeks I have been challenged with motherhood and marriage.

In my life I try to balance myself with my kids, partner, and limited social life in order to stay half charged. By comparison to this is placing a cellphone on charge with five percent battery never fully turning it off. Eventually I slip up and forget to recharge my mental battery until it goes into complete shut off. For the last two weeks I rested myself at five percent with hopes that my system would not fail. However, I was wrong and lesson learned last night I broke down.

It began last week with my partners work troubles. I fully understand my responsibility to emphasize with my partner when he is stressed with our only means of income. The silent contract that is between us throws off the balance ever so slightly. One can only listen to the same problem numerous times before anything else can be handled in life. My partner is married to his job. I have never given him flak for this more so it can be draining to one’s system. As the side chick to his job I have to sneak in other needs: this requires mental skills. When his work becomes “flaky” other things in our life goes downhill, chaos is following close behind.

Following close second to lose your shits town is the communication a parent is required for special needs parenting. I do love the essence of my child. Getting hit with the double whammy of dual special needs leads me to mental and emotional exhaustion. Paying the toll to decipher; doctors appointments, IEP plans, 504, and lastly ignorant school boards, hello ladies and gentleman you have found the mamma bear in desperate need of hibernation. We have IV treatment for my sons juvenile arthritis in just three days, you would think that is sufficient allowance for leave of absence from school. Each phone call getting more repetitive than the last one leaves me looking and feeling like Willem DaFoe during the Boondock Saints scene of his character losing his mind.

This sums it up beautifully.

This line up of events seems like all fun and games until the gross slimy Gastroenteritis decided to cozy up to boys of the home like a bad ex fresh outta prison. It started with the biggest one, went through the toddler, gave me a run for my money, and lastly it made itself well at home in my eldest sons body. This is not my finest hour in motherhood nor the events that gave the last straw this week. Our house was blessed with bodily fluids I truly thought could not come out of a human being. Lacking slumber required for mental longevity was given the boot by the rampant bio hazard living in our home. My mental zen slipped with each night of throw up and poop and unspeakable amounts of laundry. Four nights this went on my partner slept soundly through it all. Thinking that looks could kill I hope my eyes were like laser beams in his subconscious. This week as he slept so peacefully he was a jerk face to me.

My exact stare to my sleeping partner. I may have done the hand action to.

The toddler’s flu brigade was not the end all of missing my marbles. It came last night. My anxiety decided to go into overdrive. Each thought of new and horrible events driving the of mind. Twelve o’clock came and try as I might sleep would not come. I was over tired and could not shut off. I watched the alarm clock creep to one am, and then the small voice of my nine year old says “Mom I pooped”. For the next few hours of the night finally ending at five in the morning could only be described as a shitty night. No literally a shitty night, poozaganza, the merry shits. Never in my life have I cleaned up that volume of fecal matter. My house smelled, my couch got it, my sons bed got it, the wall got it, places unmentionable got it, and I completely lost my marbles. I tried to wake my partner for parent duty. What I can describe as his statement ” do you need a diaper because you can’t handle poo.”

There is a moment in marriage that one will question if this the time to smother your significant other. Other than when I was in labour; he sleepily stated you can take a taxi, have I thought about his instant demise. Lord was with him last night because he lives today. He should say thanks for being so lucky to survive the raging wife who now has been covered in every bodily fluid possible. I’m so grateful he got sleep tonight because at five am the toddler awoke. It was apparently party time for the young human, I cursed whatever universal law that was testing me.

The toddler felt five am to seven am granted the greatest time to practice loving head butts and boogie picks. His wrestling moves greatly improved in the wee hours of the morning. I got up and wrote on my whiteboard ” Do not wake me for anything. It IS MY DAY OFF” I stood by those words today and my partner honoured them. I still took care of my eldest son by setting up his bed in the tub, I feel better now that I took time to charge my batteries. My Willem DaFoe Face wiped clean off my face and I still love everyone in my home.

Written by: Ali Johnson

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14 thoughts on “Where Are My Lost Marbles?

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