Coming Up for Air

This summer I had a scary experience in the ocean.  I had been on the shore supervising the kids while the guys played around on boogie boards in the water.  There was a hurricane headed our way and that meant big waves for the guys to play in. When they finally came back, I asked Dwight to watch the kids while I went for a quick swim.  My father-in-law went out with me.

Before I knew it, I was in over my head - quite literally.  The water was very turbulent and I felt like I was getting pulled all different directions.  I got a little separated from my father-in-law. He was only about ten feet away but I could not get back to him. He could touch but I couldn't, so the undertow was having its way with me. Eventually I drifted to a spot where I was able to touch between waves. But I was quite tired by this point.  I was trying to dive under the waves but they were coming in so fast and so violently that I barely had time to recoup between them.  One of the waves pulled my swim skirt down to my knees.  Several times I swallowed water.

I got scared.

There was a deeper channel between me and the shore and I questioned whether or not I could make it across. I was nervous to leave the relative safety of the little sand bar where I could touch between waves.  I thought the lifeguard was watching me and I considered flailing my arms to get his attention...but I didn't. Maybe I was embarrassed.  Maybe I was proud.  I think mainly I just didn't really believe I was in trouble. I thought I would be okay and that I could make it back.  But I was scared. I looked for my husband on the shore.  I tried shouting his name but of course he couldn't hear me.  I quietly said, "help."

The happy ending to that story is that around that same time I decided to just swim to the freakin' shore. And I was fine. I don't know why I thought that would be a problem. When I reached the beach, I collapsed on the sand. The lifeguard came by to see if I was okay because he had in fact been watching me.

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Tonight I sat quietly in my room with a million frustrated thoughts running through my head.  I had a miserable day. I drove to the gym and realized I never dropped my daughter off at preschool. I considered just taking her to the gym with me but instead I turned around and dropped her off at school. As I was walking out of there, I realized that I still had her coat in my hand, which meant yet another U-Turn. When I went back to pick her up, I opened my car door and the wind blew it out of my hand and slammed it into the car next to mine...and left a surprisingly large ding in that car.  I tracked down the owner.  Later my daughter crawled under my desk and crashed my computer. It took me about an hour and a half to get it back online. My kids made one huge mess and one large mess.  I messed up the soup I made for supper. Blah, blah, blah.  You get the idea.

So like I said, I was feeling frustrated and sitting in my room wallowing in it a little.  And I whispered the words, "Help".  That suddenly took me back to that other day when I was in the ocean and fighting to keep my head above water.  I had an epiphany. What is it about me that I can't let people know when I need help? Why do I let myself get in over my head?

It feels very cliche to mention yet again how hard it is to be a mother but goshdarnit, this parenting business is tough. And I wasn't prepared for what a poor job I would do of it, either.  Or maybe it's more accurate to say that I'm not living up the expectations I had created for myself.

My husband always accuses me of being whiny when I force him to read these posts.  I'm sure he'll say that again when I make him read this one.  So I'll own it. You're right. I'm being whiny. I'm not ready to stop wallowing in it just yet. But maybe tomorrow the waters will be calm. And you know what, most days I do realize that I'm darn lucky to be swimming in this ocean. But yeah, today the water was rough and that's okay. Sometimes the water gets rough.