Tears streamed down my cheeks as I watched three little noses press against the glass of the window. Everything in me longed to run back inside and scoop them up in a big hug and tell them it would be all right.
But I started the Suburban and pulled out of the driveway anyway. I knew we would all be okay even if they didn't know what was going on.
I didn't know where I was going. I was just going.
My first instinct was to head up the road to my mom and dad's house. “No,” I told myself. “I am not going to run to mommy and daddy. I need to run to God.”
So I purposely drove the opposite direction. I didn't know how far I'd drive. I was just driving, crying great big ugly cries, and praying completely unintelligible prayers.
“God, I'm thankful the Holy Spirit is interpreting my prayers and interceding for me right now, because I cannot form a coherent sentence if my life depended upon it,” I said aloud.
Only I don't think it came out that clearly.
The thoughts were swirling a mile a minute. “I can't believe I'm doing this. What is wrong with me? The kids aren't going to understand. My husband doesn't have a clue what my problem is. Dear God, please help me!”
I kept driving, praying, crying, and I threw a little steering-wheel beating in there just for good measure.
Every time I saw a turn-around spot on the highway, I was tempted to head back home and finish my crying in the driveway just so the kids would know mommy would be back after a while.
But I kept driving. I needed more time.
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I finally saw a turn-off to another road that would take me in a big circle back toward home. “I'll go that way,” I thought. I'll know exactly where I'm going and I can turn my thoughts away from “Where am I going?” to the bigger problem at hand.
As I drove, I tried to figure out what had brought me to this point.
I had been planning to make pizza for dinner. It was already getting late and everybody was getting hungry. Little feet went pitter-patter behind me as I walked toward the kitchen. “I'm tired, but this should be easy,” I thought to myself. “I've already got the crust made. All I need to do is spread some sauce and cheese on and pop it in the oven. Dinner will be ready soon and we can eat and get these kids to bed.”
But when I opened the refrigerator I was dismayed to find there was no cheese. “I thought we had cheese! Oh great. Now what are we going to have? I need to feed these people so they can go to bed!” I thought.
I walked back down the hallway with my shoulders slumped in discouragement. Little feet went pitter-patter behind me again.
I peeked my head into the computer room where my husband was working. “I was going to have pizza for dinner, but I just found out we don't have any cheese. Now I don't have a clue what we're going to eat,” I told him in a pleading voice. The reason I used a pleading voice is that I really meant, “Can you please make some dinner magically appear or give me an idea of something I can make in a hurry? I really need to put the kids to bed because I need some quiet and alone-time.” Only I didn't say that. All I said was that we didn't have any cheese. So he just looked back at me and said “Oh.”
“Oh,” was not what I was hoping to hear. I was desperately hoping to hear “Honey, go in the bedroom and relax. I'll take care of dinner.” But all I got was “Oh.”
I walked back down the hallway, little feet once again going pitter-patter behind me. But now there was another sound being added to the pitter-patter. “Mom, we're hungry. When are we going to eat dinner?”
“Just…STOP,” I said through gritted teeth, trying with all my might not to explode. I knew if anyone else spoke I would blow my stack. I needed to retreat – and fast. So I went into my bedroom and shut the door. Hard. I wasn't really trying to slam it, I was just trying to make my getaway as fast as possible.
“Why don't you slam that door a little harder?” my husband hollered from the other room.
“Seriously?! Did he just say that? I'm trying so hard not to yell at people here! I'm not allowed to be frustrated?”
“These people have been following me around all day, and I'm just trying to get away for a second!”
So get away I did. I grabbed the keys and my phone and walked out the door.
And now as I found myself driving alone in the dark, I tried to make some sense of the situation in which I found myself.
As I approached the halfway-point of my loop back home, I realized the road to my parents' house was coming up.
“I might as well call mom and see if she has any cheese,” I thought to myself. People are still going to want supper when I do get back home.
Ring. Ring. Silence.
“Great! My phone just died. When mom tries to call me back, she won't be able to reach me. Then she'll call David and he'll tell her that I left without telling him where I was going. Then she'll be worried. I'd better just drive up there and knock on the door.”
Five minutes later, my dad answered the door and asked what in the world I was doing. I don't typically show up at their house at night, without my family, and without having called first.
“Well, I tried to call but my phone died,” I said, trying to hold my voice steady. “I wanted to know if you had any cheese.”
But a daddy's girl can't hide things from him. He just grabbed me in a big hug and said “What's a'matter?”
I blabbered a bunch of incoherent stuff, and my parents didn't say much of anything, which was really all they needed to say. They just said “I'm sorry. We're praying for you.” And my mom said stuff like, “I remember those days.”
Oh. And she gave me some cheese.
I felt a bit better when I left their house, but I still needed to figure out why I was so upset.
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I didn't have a real “Aha!” moment, but between the first leg of my drive, the time spent at my parents', and the drive the rest of the way home, I gradually figured out what the problem was.
There was nothing wrong with me. I just flat-out needed a break.
I homeschool the kids, my husband does the grocery shopping for me, and we rarely go anywhere besides church.
I'm with these kids 24/7 every. single. day.
And while I love them with all my heart, one can only stand so much noise. One can only have oatmeal-covered fingers clinging to her skirt for so many hours a day before she needs a personal time-out.
And now that the kids are older, I'm not even getting the quiet of a nap time any more. (They're supposed to have “quiet time”, but…well…you know how that goes.)
I'm often awakened in the morning by the baby, which means I have zero time to myself from the moment I set my feet on the floor until I get into bed at night. And then my poor husband wonders why I scoot away from him and hardly say a word besides a mumbled “G'night. Love you.”
Thankfully, since I did figure out what the problem was, he and I have talked this over, and we're working on a solution.
We'll probably start with my doing the grocery shopping alone rather than having him do it for me. But I wouldn't mind for my breaks to be a little more fun sometimes too. 🙂
So what lessons would I like to share from my experience?
1. Even when you think you're communicating with your husband, that may not actually be the case.
I was trying to tell my husband I was desperate for a break, but the only message he got was that we didn't have any cheese. And then he thought I was slamming the door about it! The poor guy is not a mind reader.
If you need something, tell your husband exactly what you need without hinting.
This is something we've tried to do our entire marriage – he to try to read through my hints, and I to be more direct in saying what I mean. Obviously, we've still got work to do!
2. Give yourself a break.
I think homeschooling moms and moms of toddlers and preschoolers may be in the most danger of experiencing mommy burn-out since they are always with their kids, but I would venture to say that all moms need to be careful to take some time out for themselves. And if you're an introvert like me, some actual ALONE time, not just a date with your husband or a night out with your friends.
I'd like to share some practical ways moms can take time out for themselves, but this post is rather lengthy already, so watch for a follow-up post soon with some ideas!
Have you ever hit your limit as a mother? How did you handle it?
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