Barrel ahead.

So, I get this job, right?  And it is equal parts rewarding and soul crushing.

But mostly soul crushing.  By a slight margin.

I am physically wiped.  I’m trying to maintain my fat camp schedule.  At least the “class” part of fat camp.  On Tuesdays (today) I usually go and do strength on my own.

But today, I made my own homemade spaghetti sauce for 80 small children.  Spaghetti, meat sauce, green beans, fruit and garlic bread.  If I was 2, it would be a total feast.  They loved it.  The teachers loved it because it smelled so good all morning.  The directors loved it because homemade sauce for 80 cost them about 4 bucks plus time.  I could get all puffed up for a little bit because everyone commented on it.

I am wrecked. 

Yesterday, I hauled my dirty and sorry and sore ass to fat camp where we had a 30 minute strength trial.  How many full body squats can you do in 2 minutes?  I did 41.  How many situps/crunches?  About 40.  How many pushups?  Again, 40 (and the first 11 were “real” pushups).  Lunges?  40.  And those things that we used to call “burpees” in junior high…I think now they’re called a “squat thrust”.  And with a name like that, it stands to reason that I’m a little out of practice.

It’s funny because it’s true.

A little less than 40 for that one but just slightly more than 30.  So, still not terrible.   Especially considering my foray into pilates on Saturday.  And I’m still not so sure I like pilates.  Maybe once I can do a full sit up, I will feel different about the class. 

As the day went on today, I felt worse and worse.  My ass.  My hamstrings.  My abs.

But, mostly, my mental state sucks.

I like the cooking.  I like being where my children learn and play.  I’m in the wing with the toddlers and they crack me up.  It’s not doing much to cure my baby fever hangover but they are fun to be around.

But…these kids?  Eat all the time.  Four times a day.  I’m usually working on the next feeding before one is totally complete.  Every room has its own bus tub bucket and their food, plates, condiments, beverage and utensils all fit into it.  I work really hard to make sure that each room’s food is hot (or cold) and fresh because my own children are here.  And, because the last cook didn’t.  I need to look better by comparison, you see.

And maybe I’m over thinking this whole thing.

 It’s a job, yo.  Everybody has a job.  That’s what we do.  We contribute to society.  I get it.

But dishes for 80 kids times 4 meals is a ton of dishes.  I applaud them for not going to all throwaway and I’m happy to contribute my effort to the environment but that is a ton of freaking dishes.  And the wiping, the laundry, the hand washing, the counter sanitizing, the ordering, the planning for tomorrow…Soul.  Crushing.


I leave there and I don’t have anything else left to give.  My kids had corn dogs and potato chips for dinner.  And teddy grahams and popcorn for snack while I read.  We just finished “Ramona the Brave”, the one where she makes her own shoe out of elementary school paper towels and I, after I read the book in the second grade, I never looked at school paper towels the same.  And I remembered that her mother wouldn’t buy her a coloring book so she made her own line drawings and stapled them together to make her own coloring book.

I fed my children.  I bathed them (they mostly bathe themselves but still).  I read to them.  I put them in bed.

And I can’t even turn on the tv to watch Glee! because I’m so very, very tired and overstimulated. 

Actually, it’s because the remote is across the room and I fear that I will fall over when I get up to get it so I just won’t.  I’ll let the dvr get it and I’ll watch it tomorrow.  Or Friday. 

I know I’m not eating right.  In all honesty, I’m not eating enough.  Probably.  I know I’m not sleeping enough.  I’m not meeting my goals at the gym or on the scale.  Especially not on the scale.  I am dehydrated.  And a new kind of stress that bothers me to no end.  That feeling of “did I do the right thing?” is slowly eating me.

I already miss my old life.  The one that could go and have lunch with the kindergarteners.  Or take off and drive to Iowa.  The one that went to Costco and Target and Kohls at quiet times of the week.  I miss the part where I cooked for my family.  And worked on my own body and mind. 

I left the gym yesterday with two exhausted and whiny girls.  We were all in tears leaving the parking lot.  They, because they each had an issue that I couldn’t resolve while driving.  Me, because I couldn’t listen to one more word out of their mouths.  The only thing they needed was sleep.  And then I felt incredibly guilty for dragging them to the gym when I knew it was too much for one day.  Especially when my body is not responding to my effort.

And I can’t solve this problem either.  Because I’m too tired to think about a solution.

Right or wrong, I just barrel ahead.

Because that seems to be all I know how to do.


One thought on “Barrel ahead.

  1. It sounds like you’re at a crossroads—you’ve dropped the meds, you’ve taken a physically demanding job on top of a physically demanding fat camp on top of a full-time++job of mothering…No wonder you’re tired!!!
    Can you make an adjustment? Cut back on fat camp and just go exercise at a slower more sane pace? It might take you longer to get to your goal but (said in my best mothering tone)”I’m worried that you’re taking on too much stress”….

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