Lately I have felt off. Not just kind of off. Really off. I would describe it as a fleeting feeling. Some days it’s there in full force while other days it’s just in the background. I am starting to wonder if something more than just having three kids and general life stresses are the problem.

I worry. A lot. But only to myself. I am not worrying about things that make me helicopter parent my kids, but I have dreams about strange things and when my mind wanders it wanders to things like death and dying and what life would be like either without me or if I were to lose someone close to me. It is in a more general sense, though.

I feel like I just want to shut down and sleep in my room in the dark. Alone. The idea of chores and things are so unappealing. And yes, I know that chores aren’t appealing to most people, but I want to whine like a baby about needing to do the dishes or laundry. There are enough toddlers in this house. Mommy doesn’t need to act like one, too.

I am irritated by the smallest things. I just want to give my kids ipads and tell them to leave me alone. I have no motivation to teach my kids things (writing, reading), doing crafts seems stressful and taking them anywhere just feels like such a hassle.

I understand kids feed off me and my reactions to things. But I find it to be such a challenge to keep my cool. I just feel like I could explode inside if I have to answer the same question 100 more times. Or ask them to do something for the 100th time. It’s exhausting.

There are other random things on my mind, too. Maybe I’m not cut out to be a stay-at-home mom anymore. This freaks me out. I feel like if I don’t stay with Alex a while, I have let him down in some way. I was home with the girls and now, see ya, kid. I’m outta here. And then I worry that I failed at staying home. Some times I think I am really taking the easy way out and staying home and not getting a job. But am I even doing a good enough job with the kids to continue doing this? On the other hand, I love being home with them. I love seeing them everyday and seeing them grow and change. I would miss them like crazy if I didn’t get to deal with their non-sense all day.

Maybe what I need is a job where I can take the bus to and from work and just read a book. Then I freak out about how the kids would be if I’m not with them. Would they be ok in daycare (obviously I know the answer is yes). Or how the house stuff will get done if I’m not home all day. But let’s be real…it’s not getting done and I am home. So that wouldn’t be that big of a deal. And I would be so sad to miss seeing them all day. I love them and I love being home with them.

I always intended to go back to work at some point after staying home with the kids. I wish there was something I was extremely passionate about, though. I have things that might be ok, but then worry and fret about learning something new, being qualified/good enough and just generally scared about the whole process. I don’t feel that good about myself, so how can I go sell myself to someone when I don’t even think that highly of myself? And how will I ever learn something new when all I think about is how bad I’ll be at it or how I’m not smart enough for it.

Then there’s the regrets. I went to college and got a crappy degree. What a waste of thousands of dollars and brain cells. Then I went back to school for a more respectable degree and dropped out. I just didn’t want to be in school anymore. I also didn’t think I could do it (but it has been pointed out to me that that isn’t the case). Either way. If I had stuck with it years ago, I would have been done. I could have years of experience behind me by now and I wouldn’t be in this predicament. I’d have a great degree from a great school. But alas. That is not the case and here is sit with regrets. And the fear of failing and relearning and just fearing it all.

This can’t be healthy. There are a bunch of stresses in our lives right now. And I am sure these are big contributing factors in all of this. But I am worried there are underlying things that I don’t know how to get rid of. I had tried therapy once and hated it. That isn’t something I want to do again. But I don’t really want to pop happy pills everyday, either.

I feel like I’m not as happy as I should be. I mean, my husband has a great job he loves and is amazing at. I have a part time job and three beautiful, smart, healthy kids and the ability to stay home with them. And we have food on our table. Clothes on our backs. More toys than the kids know what to do with. Generally nice things. A beautiful house. Two cars. What the hell is there for me to complain about? I just feel so whiny.

I’ve been waking up early for about 5 weeks now. I get up before anyone else is awake and I shower, do some yoga, sit in the dark in the quiet of the morning. Sometimes I light a candle. It’s so peaceful. I had hopes this would set the tone for my day. And I would be peaceful and happy. Instead, I look at the clock and think I should have gotten up earlier because the time was too short. Wonder how it can be morning already and why my kids need to wake up so early. Why is it that I’m not over-the-moon excited that they are running to me with messy hair and open arms for morning snuggles? Then I run through the day thinking about when will it be their rest time? How long until it’s their bedtime? Then the days just go on repeat. That can’t be normal. Or healthy.

There’s my rant in a nutshell. A feelings-dump. I am not actually looking for answers. I just wanted to put it out there. It feels like I can maybe tackle or overcome some of these things if I actually say them. I can’t avoid them as much this way. These stressful days will pass. I know that. I just want to enjoy them and look back with happy memories and not wonder if I gave the kids enough love and laughs when they were little and needed it the most.

Blah. Or maybe I’m just getting my period.