Tuesday, January 28th Needed

The past several nights I have slunk into bed, exhausted at the thought of being needed one more time by anyone for any reason. My poor husband has gotten all the leftover energy and mental capacity that I go to bed with each night. It reminds me of How the Grinch Stole Christmas, when the grinch takes everything from the Who’s houses and leaves crumbs that are even too small for a mouse. That’s what Jacob has been getting from me – crumbs.

First thing in the morning, I open my eyes to hear the baby crying. Because he needs me. Then Teagan is hungry, and he will DIE (DIE!) if he doesn’t get breakfast before I drop Easton off at school. He needs me to feed him. Easton needs a healthy home-made lunch for school. The house needs me to clean it. The less-active women in my ward need to be visited because it’s my calling as a ward missionary to do that weekly. Logan is fussy, and he needs me to hold him. And Teagan needs to be schooled while Easton is at school. If I sit down on the couch, Logan and Teagan fight over who will sit on my lap because they both need to be on me all the time.  And the people around me are always SO hungry, all day long, needing me to feed them, needing me to make dinner. Then I pick Easton up from school and the needing continues. I have to help with homework, tuck the boys in bed, read them bedtime stories, and sing them their bedtime songs. The dog needed to me to take her to the groomer’s this week. Even the dog needs me. She follows me all around the house just needing to be next to me. And little baby Emerlynn living inside my body needs me to survive. Everybody needs me. All day long from the time I wake up I am needed.

This is not a situation that is unique to me – mothers everywhere are needed to give and give and give until they have nothing left to give except for crumbs. The crumbs of our sanity, our energy.Unfortunately, that’s often what Jacob gets at the end of the night -  an exhausted sigh from his emotionally spent wife as he reaches over to touch my arm, and I pull away while my silent thoughts say to him, “Oh, now YOU need me too?” Poor man. Poor children with their tired mother.  It’s work for me to do things these days, even little things. I don’t want to sound like I don’t love my life because I do, and I love the people in it. I love those little ones that need so much from me and the sweet man that needs me too. Were it all to go away, my grief would be unbearable, and I would long for the moments that I was so needed. But sometimes I need to shower or pee alone or walk downstairs to put something away without Logan thinking I’m abandoning him. I need things, too. Like more time in the day. And a house keeper. And a chef. A personal trainer too, or instead someone to workout for me by proxy. I need to eat more often. Without sharing it with all the people that I made sure to feed before I ate so that I could eat in peace. This little baby inside me needs more than the 20 glasses of water I live off of each day. But there’s no time for me. I washed my hair and did my makeup today instead of schooling Teagan because it’s always one or the other. How some people manage to get so many things done in a day astounds me. Like women that wash their hair every day? I can’t imagine such a thing as that. I need someone (other than my husband whose tips are always received more as criticism) to micromanage my day and time and then do it all for me while I just lay on the couch and do nothing. That sounds lovely. That’s what I need.