These are the days that puzzle me the most.
I wake up from restless sleep, begin my day only to become more and more anxious as the day goes on. Feeling overwhelmed, incredibly frustrated. I look around and realize that I’m doing the same thing I do everyday. Picking up the same messes, washing the same laundry, putting away the same toys, cleaning the same dishes. Dealing with the same tantrums, the same schedule, the same frustrations every day. Yet there is the occasional day that putting away the same t-shirt for the 37th time causes me to look around and realize I accomplish nothing great on a day to day basis. Everything I do today will be misplaced, dirty, eaten or unfolded by the end of the week and I will start all over again next week. And for the next many many weeks to come. This in turn causes me fall to the floor in a heap and cry.
It’s so dumb.
This is my life that I chose, and most days I’m happy with it.
But some days I want to throw it all in garbage bags and start over.
Tomorrow the piles won’t look so big, my imperfections won’t glare so harshly and I’ll wonder what ever happened to me yesterday. I just have to get to tomorrow first.