Mommy, are you done?

Rest. Relax. Read a book. Take a long hot bath. Watch a whole movie from beginning to end without interruption from kids or falling asleep. To sleep without having a baby trying to get so close to me it seems like he's trying to wriggle his way back inside. To have the whole house completely clean with laundry done, everything put away and smelling good. These are things I used to take for granted. Things that used to be normal, every day things instead of dreamed of luxuries that are just out of reach.

This morning I decided I couldn't take the mess anymore and had to do some real cleaning. After breakfast, I cleared the dishes, wiped the counters and table, swept the floor, took out the garbage and mopped the kitchen and dining room. The entire time I was doing this Meghan was pestering me with the neverending repetition of "Mommy, are you done?" and it's driving me crazy. Forget about fingernails on a chalkboard. If you really want to torture someone lock them in a room with a bored 3 year old. I swear, if she says it one more time I'm going to scream...actually, I already screamed. One of those melodramatic primal screams you see in bad movies. I screamed so loud both kids stopped whining for a second and looked at me with great, shocked eyes like I was a crazy woman. Maybe I am. After staring at me for a moment, Meghan asked, "Mommy why'd you scream? You're loud." And then asked me if I was done yet.

What's wrong with me that I can let a little kid push me to the edge like this? It got me to thinking. It's not the kids that are driving me crazy. It's not the repetition of "are you done yet" that is causing the overwhelming anxiety and frustration. No, what's driving me to the brink of drinking at ten in the morning is the realization that I will NEVER be done again. There is no such thing as "done" when you have kids.

I'm a reward driven person. I tell myself things like, "when you're done with "XYZ", you can take a break." Well, today I realized that the to do list will never be completed and I will never get to take that break. There will always be a pile of toys to put away, another spill to wipe up, a hiney to wipe, a meal to be cooked, shopped for or cleaned up after. And if I ignore all the housework for a few minutes, then there is a chapter on anatomy that I need to review, a pile of mail and receipts on my desk to sort, 4 thousand messages in my in-box that I should read. And what about poor Shon? It's been so long since he's gotten any of my attention I'm surprised he's still around. Even now, as I sit here and type this, I'm feeling guilty because I should be playing with Meghan instead of letting her sit in front of the TV destroying brain cells while I try to pull myself together. No matter what I'm doing, I'm constantly thinking of the list of 10 million other things that need to be done "next."

I look at other Moms, the ones with more kids, cleaner houses and happier husbands and I wonder how they do it. I see them carpooling in their minivans with smiling faces and an air of confidence and contentment and I wonder if it's real. Are they really that good at this job or are they faking it on the outside while on the inside they're just as messed up as I am? I feel like I'm pulled in so many directions and stretched so tight that I'm transparent and will pop at any moment.

I can see the headline now:

Stay at Home Mom's Head Explodes; Neglected Kids Eat Her for Lunch.