Can I please share my heart? (Be prepared for a lot of whining.)
I’m tired. I’m emotionally tired, spiritually tired, financially tired, and physically tired. I’m just tired.
Ryan and I are facing the upcoming furlough. We’ll have a significant pay cut to deal with for approximately six months. Thankfully, we have been blessed enough to be able to save up for such an event (that and I know how to choke a dollar) so we’ll be okay, but we have numerous coworkers and friends, good friends, that are really going to be feeling this 20% reduction. I’m worried for them. I’m waking up in the middle of the night praying that they’ll be okay. Ryan and I have been discussing ways to save money, cut bills, as well as gather some projects to work on while we have an extra day off. I've come to terms with the pay reduction and not having any ‘frills’ for the next six months. I've researched free and inexpensive activities, and I've even started looking forward to having some time to accomplish home projects and spend extra time with my sweet family. I’m to the point that I’m tired of talking about it and I’m ready to just do it. I’m tired of stressing about it and worrying about it and I’m ready to just rip off the Band-Aid and start it so we can finish it. I’m tired of it.
I’m growing weary with work. I LOVE LOVE LOVE my job, but it’s getting more and more challenging each week. We’re understaffed, and our budget has been cut. We’re trying to accomplish as much as we can, but at the same time we’re having to tell numerous people that their projects just aren't going to happen this year…and I have no idea about the next year. And even though they understand, they’re still disappointed. And I’m tired of that.
I've been back at work for a little over a month now and the only way I can describe is: It’s hard. Even with Ryan's help it’s hard getting up early, getting myself ready, getting the kids ready, getting Hannah fed, packing some sort of breakfast or lunch for me and Ryan, packing Hannah’s bottles, dropping off both children at different places, and then fighting traffic to get to work before 8:00. We’re trying to eat healthy, but it’s hard to plan a meal, let alone cook one, when you’re running frantic dropping off kids, working all day, picking up kids, and then rushing back home. Many nights I walk in the door and remember that I have no meal planned and I just want to throw my own temper tantrum in the middle of the kitchen floor. And I’m tired of it.
One of my biggest struggles with Lane right now is food. He refuses to eat normal food. Yes, he’ll eat a hot dog, French fries, pizza, and sometimes macaroni and cheese. He’ll eat a few raisins, maybe a banana, and possibly an apple. He’ll gobble up some bacon if it’s for breakfast. The problem is THIS IS ALL HE EATS. I've fought and fought and fought with him and it’s still the same. I stress and worry over his nutrition all the time. And I’m tired of it.
And yeah, I know I just had a baby, but I’m ready to lose that last five pounds (and continue to lose) and get back to feeling better in my own skin. I grunt to stand up, my back always hurts, and my butt jiggles when I try to run. I feel fat. And I’m tired of it.
Hannah’s been battling a cold for almost four weeks now. She was getting better, but then the cough and drainage came back. She sounds awful and probably feels it, too. And I’m tired of it.
Ryan hurt his back and now he’s trying to fight off this dreaded cold that’s running around. He feels rough and sore and there's nothing I can do. And I’m tired of it.
Although Hannah and Lane are sleeping in their own rooms each night, I haven’t slept through the night in weeks. I wake up thinking about work or friends or whatever and just can’t sleep. And I’m tired of it.
We have friends that are facing serious trials right now. My heart hurts for them. They shouldn't have to deal with these issues. And I’m tired of it.
And just when I've finished that pep talk to myself and I think I can hold it together no matter what comes next, a daycare teacher pulls me aside and says, “Can I give you some advice?”
Bring it on.
She tells me that Lane should be potty trained by now because he tells her when he needs to potty and he just needs to start wearing underwear and stop the Pull-Ups. (Let it be known that he NEVER tells us he needs to go when he’s at home. Let it also be known that she's not his normal teacher.) And yeah, I'd LOVE for him to be potty trained. There’s good reason for him to be potty trained. He can’t move up to the three-year-old class until he’s out of diapers. This next class will be a cheaper monthly rate. Not having to buy diapers for him would definitely help the ole’ pocket book. AND, frankly? I’m just tired of wiping his butt. Today I sent him in real underwear and sent five changes of extra clothes (including socks). Every outfit came back tied up in a plastic bag. I really want him to start using the potty, but I’m not convinced he’s ‘there’ yet. And yet I feel pressured to push him, but I don't know what to do, and it’s stressing me out. And I’m tired of it.
I know my problems are petty compared to some of the things my friends are having to go through, and I feel guilty stressing over these things. I mean, my issues are peanuts. I know this.
And yet I’m struggling.
And it's making me tired.
So friends, (all three of you reading this), say a little prayer for me? Say a prayer for my sweet family. Say a prayer for my friends and my coworkers.
And, hey, while you're at it, say a prayer for your friends and your coworkers. Even though I’m sharing my heart with the world (holy cow, I can’t believe I’m doing this), you probably know some people that are having a hard time, too, but don’t feel comfortable enough (or crazy enough, call it what you want) to put it all out there.
So, pray for them. And I’ll be praying for you.