All By Myself...

I’ve been feeling sorry for myself this week. I received some not so great news about my beloved boss leaving my company. My census is not where it should be, and those in senior care know that census is directly tied to your happiness/ability to function like a normal human being.  Sean’s been on shift, teaching classes and is working a trade in addition to his regular shift this week and both kids are getting over some horrible sickness and I’m tired. So tired.  I had lunch with a dear friend today and she made the analogy of balancing a plate that’s piled really high…well, my plate is piled and it’s about to fall on the lap of some poor sap (namely, my husband) because I literally can’t balance another thing this week.  This same friend suggested that we go on a desert quest to find our spirit animals.  At this point, I’m desperate, and if there’s tequila involved it sounds like a quest I want to be a part of. 

 

I know that the source of my stress this week is work related and the fact that Sean’s on shift, with more shift days and long work trips to come and I feel like I have to do it all by myself.  You and I both know that isn’t true because Sean’s doing what he can when he’s home but let me feel sorry for myself today. Being alone feels overwhelming when I’m getting the kids ready and dropped off in the morning and leaving work early to make sure they get picked up on time, throw in baseball, Taekwondo and dance and the fact that I'm wearing high heels and it’s starting to feel like I’ve overextended myself.  Thank God we have cereal to eat because cooking dinner isn’t in the cards. 

In the midst of trying to find some calm this week, I was constantly seeing pictures of t-shirts in my Facebook newsfeed that say My Heart Belongs to a Smokin’ Hot Firefighter and Forget The Fire Truck, Ride the Firefighter, and my recent favorite, The Only Fire He Can’t Put Out is the One He Started Inside My Heart.  Well guess what? This week, my heart is cold. as. stone. And those shirts are ridiculous.  Ride the Firefighter? Please, we’re all too tired for that.  Now, I know what you’re thinking, “You heartless bitch!” But hear me out. I don’t mean my heart is cold as in I don’t have the ability to love or be kind, because I do.  What I mean is that my heart knows what to expect now. The t-shirts make me roll my eyes and think, "Those girls and guys have no idea what's coming."  When I was newly married and new to the fire life, I was told “Oh, he’ll miss so much” and “Just wait until you have to share him with 5 other guys” (which was secret fire code for 50 guys and some gals) I hadn’t yet experienced the magnitude of the amount of time Sean would miss with me and with the kids. It’s a lot. My hat is off to military wives and single moms and dads everywhere because this shit is crazy.  There were times in our marriage where the kids and I would attack Sean in the morning with hugs and kisses when he came home.  We don’t get to do that very often anymore because he’s teaching fire science and he goes straight to the school after getting off shift. By the time I get home and we feed the kids, we have about 2 hours to spend together before I turn into a pumpkin. I literally can’t remember the last time we went on a date that didn’t involve some sort of shopping for the kids or toilet paper.  Life is busy and our priorities have changed and we’re working really hard to figure out how we can make each other a priority in the midst of every thing we have going on.  I know that many of you feel this same way, and not all of you are wives of firefighters.  It’s a work in progress. When I figure out the magic formula, I’ll let you know. 

 

Remember at the beginning of this post where I told you to let me feel sorry for myself today? Good.  Here’s a fun firefighter fact: At the end of every year, Sean and his platoon hold a vacation draw where they draw off shifts in a round robin form.  It’s based on seniority and it’s hit or miss whether they’ll get the days they want or need for the following year depending on someone else wanting or needing that same day. I like to imagine a “Jerry Springer” style fight over drawing Christmas off, but really, those guys are done in about 15 minutes and they shoot the breeze for another hour.  It’s difficult to plan vacations for the next year based on a shift calendar, and quite frankly, it sucks.  It always sneaks up on us and we never have any idea what we’ll have going on six to eight months from that day.  Sean usually lucks out with all of our birthdays and our anniversary.  Other than that, it’s the luck of the draw.  I can think of two Thanksgivings and two Christmas Eves that Sean was able to be home with us.  I struggled for years trying to find a balance on holidays; splitting up time with my parents and my in-laws and made myself sick trying to make sure everyone had equal time. I did it to myself.  I’ve spent 6 Christmas Eve’s playing Santa alone. One year, it took me three hours to build a train set for Jack because I needed tools and obviously had to be a structural engineer to put together.  You may not know this, but I also moonlight as a general contractor. I’ve plunged toilets, fixed toilets, tightened sprinkler valves, replaced furnace filters, shoveled snow and climbed a ladder to the roof, in high heels to get a football down for Jack and the neighbor kids. (Not my smartest move.) The point is, I had to learn how to do these thing by myself. (Refer to my first post where I discuss everything that can go wrong, goes wrong when Sean is on shift) It’s hard to manage my own life in addition to the kids', throw in a fountain sprinkler and it’s a recipe for a nervous breakdown.  In the moment, it feels like my world is spinning.  When I look back on some of my forced home improvement adventures it’s empowering.  I can fix anything. Sometimes a call or a visit from my dad or father-in-law happens but I can mange most things with YouTube's help. 

Do you know what used to be more difficult than fixing a sprinkler? Going places alone. I don’t mean going to the grocery store or the gas station because those two places are sometimes the only place where I can get some peace and quiet for 20 minutes. What I mean is BBQ’s, parties, parent teacher conferences, baseball and dance. Without Sean. Sean and I consider ourselves lucky to have such great family and friends. I certainly wouldn’t want them to plan get-togethers revolving around Sean’s schedule because we would never see each other. Ever.  It just so happens that Sean is on shift for a lot of those things.  When I was new to this life, I remember thinking how much easier it would be to stay home and wallow in my own self-pity.  I used to wonder if our friends thought we were getting a divorce because Sean was MIA for everything scheduled for about 6 months and staying home sounded a lot better than making the old “Oh, he’s at work” excuse.  Well, me 8 years ago was crazy, obviously. Now, I am a professional at going places solo; it doesn’t bother me anymore. I would much rather have interactions with adults and let my kids play with kids and chickens than to sit home feeling sorry for myself. (I know, that defeats the purpose of my feeling sorry for myself post today) But listen. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. How you chose to react to your husband being gone is on you, and I clearly need to follow my own advice. Life is all about choices.  Are there times when I am a basket case and feel like everything is going wrong and I can’t do anything right, sure. Are there times when a toilet will overflow because my darling daughter flushed a comb? Yep.  But I get to choose to own the crazy or to be smothered by it.  From this moment on, I choose to own it. I choose to continue falling deeper in love with the man I married.  I choose to love Sean through the broken toilets, through the coffee spills, through the times I go to parties and parent teacher conferences and other events alone. More importantly than that, I choose to love myself and be patient with myself. I am more powerful than my negative thoughts.  I love this man and I love this life, even though my feet hurt from wearing high heels all week.

 

My challenge to you is to own your moments of crazy. And own them today. There are seven days in a week, and someday isn’t one of them.