Everything is Futile

I have always been a pull-yourself-up-by-the-bootstraps kind of girl. When things get tough, I do my best to rise to the challenge. But being eternally optimistic is exceptionally hard when life keeps pelting you in the head with lemons. Sometimes all you can do is embrace this moment and wallow in your self pity for a little bit before you move on.

This last week has been especially trying; we've been on (self-inflicted) house arrest as Knox has been attempting to master the potty. Buttercup started teething and is in the middle of a "I can roll over in my sleep and it is freaking me out!" sleep regression. And to top it off, our whole family has been hit with a summer cold which has turned Dash into a helpless puddle of tears. He gets emotional and borderline dramatic when he is sick (which is an unfortunate quality passed down from his mother.) All of this has made me feel like I've been trapped in a madhouse and instead of making lemonade with all these lemons, I just want to let them pile up and bury me. Because, it doesn't matter what I do; EVERYTHING is futile.

If I clean up the toys, another toynado will strike.
If I feed my children, they'll just get hungry again.
If I do the dishes, we'll make more. (See section on feeding children.)
If I take a shower and put clean clothes on, the baby will spit up on me.
If I bathe the baby and put clean clothes on her, she'll spit up on those too.
If I vacuum, the dog will roll in the brown straw we affectionately call "grass" in the backyard and track it all over the house.
If I make the bed, I'm just going to get back in it later. Sooner rather than later, I hope.
If I finish ALL the laundry, we'll fill an entire basket by the end of the day.
If I break up a fight, there will be another.
If I kindly explain there are better ways to solve our problems, I'll still end up yelling because no one was listening the first time.

I know, I know. This is too shall pass. It's hard and it is absolutely worth doing. While all that is true, I'm tired of trying to do things instead of actually doing things. For once I'd like to be able to check something off my list and feel the joy of accomplishment. But I suppose that is a small part of why I'm here. When I hit the publish button on this post, I will have completed something measurable that cannot be undone.

So thanks for being here to read and commiserate. Thanks for being the reason I can put a single check mark on my to do list. I imagine I'm not the only one waiting for this stage to pass. Tomorrow, when all of this is getting you down, I'll make you some lemonade with all these lemons.