worn thin


Yesterday I was feeling frazzled, and wishing desperately for some silence. The level of input over the past week has risen to the point that one evening, I physically put my hands over my ears and put my head down on the table.

Our life right now is filled with the joyous noise of little people, and it truly is wonderful. I don’t wish it away. I am so grateful that they are happy little people, and I love the songs and silly noises and even the endless questions. Usually the constant nature of the noise is manageable, and had it just been actual noise, I think it would have been business as usual.

J got a new job, a good job. To further his goals of working in medicine when he finishes school, he’s joined the health system here in a position that not only offers advancement, but is second shift, four days a week. It’s the perfect complement to my position working from home and will match his course schedule really well. Our girls will still be home with a parent for the majority of their week, and maybe we can make a dent in our larger goal to be debt-free.

We didn’t anticipate that his training would be on day shift. Why, I don’t know, because thinking about it now, it makes sense. But for the past week he and I have both been on overdrive. Between learning a new system, working handyman jobs in the village, responding to a forest fire call (oh yeah, did I mention he joined the fire department?) and trying to complete the chicken coop, my hardworking hubby has been stretched thin. And in trying to support him (clean work clothes, packed lunch, picking up his half of the chores, listening!), stay on top of my own paid work, and be a patient mama and homemaker, I haven’t had a moment of true silence in many, many days. There are so many needs to fulfill.

Silence. No noise, nothing going into my brain, zero input is what I’ve been craving.


Tonight is his first real night at work. My girls didn’t nap today, so they went to bed at 6:30pm and I went and scrubbed the sorely neglected toilet. It took me a few minutes of wandering aimlessly afterward, but I finally cracked open the last beer in the fridge and just stopped. I’m sitting in the kitchen, looking out at an almost finished chicken palace, listening to the peepers in the bog and the washing machine rolling around and around and around.

2 thoughts on “worn thin

  1. Rest and relieve yourself :: Yes. Thank you for sharing honestly…So much burden we mamas carry alone – its not meant to be this way. Give a holler if you want to strap them into a double stroller and go for a walk. There are always folks at the beach to offer a good distraction too. Hugs!


  2. Making babies is easy – raising them is not so easy. You are a good mama. I have always remembered a story I read many years ago when my kids were small – it had a comment about a mother cat and her kittens – it was: take a hint from the cat – no matter how many kittens she has she always takes time to groom herself and get a nap. Of course, sometimes that is easier said than done but it is worth thinking about.


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