My last fuse if officially blown. The final straw has broken this camel's back.
I. Can't. Take it. Anymore.
The children have won. There is just too many of them, I'm outnumbered. Every time I turn around there is something fresh to clean/fix/pick up/wash/throw out. My life is a constant dance of a half step forward, half dozen steps back. Just today I finally hung the shelving over Finn's change table so I can organize his diaper items. While I was doing that, someone short and female (I haven't identified which, just yet) scribbled on the wall outside his door. So now I have to go scrub a wall. All the towels are laundered, folded, and put away. But inexplicably the linen closet now smells like a nail salon.
I'm reaching the end of my rapidly fraying rope. I hate doing everything by myself. I can do it, and it's not so much difficult as it is constant, but I am just so tired of doing it. Do you know the the Golden Gate Bridge is always being painted? It takes so long to paint the whole thing, that by the time they are finished, the side they started on needs painting again. That's what my life is like. Individual things occasionally get done (barring constant interruptions, and usually to musical accompaniment of "Mommy? Mama? Mom mom? Mom? Mummy? Ma? Ma? Ma? Mama? Mamamamamamamamamamamamamamamama?") but everything NEVER gets done. All I want is to sit down after the kids go to bed, with a cup of tea and this stupid cat that won't leave me alone, light some candles, and look around at a clean, pretty house.
Honey, sweetie, husband of mine - I fully support your military career and the need it creates for you to be away just now. But it freaking SUCKS.