Saturday morning. Another long week working from home, which others say is a blessing, but I don’t feel that. Another long, what seems like an endless night with a teething toddler, who just got over an ear infection, and a freshly turned 5-year-old who still refuses to sleep in his own bed, and a husband who snores. One day blurs into the next during this phase of life. It will pass, things will change, cherish these moments. I am not ungrateful. I am not selfish. I am not unaware of the blessings I have in this life.
What I am is lonely.
Chasing after two very active kiddos, cleaning toys, wiping up spills, drying runny noses, wiping tears, being the cruise director of this house day in and day out. They need their mama, but I need just a few moments to myself. Not being jumped on, asked a million questions, treated like a jungle gym.
That wanting is lonely.
Trying to maintain a marriage that seems to have derailed so much that we may not find our way back on track ever again. How can we when we now consider time together as going grocery shopping? That is not enough. Fancy dinners? No. Lunch dates? No. Sporadic date nights? No. That isn’t the season of life we’re in. We argue more than we talk, it’s as simple as that.
That arguing is lonely.
Smiling and throwing a hearty wave as your neighbors take out their trash, exchanging pleasantries with another mom at drop-off or pick-up, commenting or liking another friend’s pictures of their latest girls’ outing I was looked over for.
Those actions are lonely.
I have planned parties, get-togethers, playdates, driveway bonfires. All of it.
But still, those actions are lonely.
My life is constantly moving, but as I sit here on another Saturday morning with the chaos of family life, marriage, and the responsibility of adulthood, this is lonely.