Letter Week is almost over here at Sizzle Bop. We have one more letter we want to share, this time from a Mom who is NOT a Sizzler herself, but runs a house full of them. She’s so busy meeting their oh-so-labor-intensive needs, that she finds she runs dry by the end of the day. Anybody feeling her pain? Take a look.
Do you or your readers have any wisdom for a mom who ISN’T a sizzler? That mom who has an actual, real need to finish what she starts, to get from point A to point B without visiting point Z, 37-1/2, Mars and all points in between?
I have two boys. I have your books, and your ideas have literally saved our family and our homeschool. I love your wonderful messages and your blog. I’m totally on board.
BUT. (You knew there was a “but…”)
At the end of each day, after I’ve done my Vaudeville show, my spinning and running, and ridden the roller coaster ride that is teaching in our house, I am literally exhausted and completely unhappy. I have not had many of my OWN needs met.
My needs are simple: to finish what I start, at least some of the time, to get to the place I started to go, to have some small amount of order and peace. You can guess how many of those needs get met in a houseful of sizzlers.
It feels that I am catering to their quirks all day long, and because of their… “sizzliness,” they are not ABLE to do the same for me. It’s not that they don’t care, it’s simply that it’s just not possible for me to expect it in return. So the cycle continues. I do all it takes to meet their needs, and my own very real needs go unmet.
As a result it becomes very, VERY hard to keep looking for the positive, to keep making it fun, to keep chasing rabbits with them, to keep them motivated, to stay enthusiastic about all of this. I don’t always rejoice in intensity of emotion, in dawdling, daydreaming, ignoring my first 15 requests to do something, or in the constant neglect of my own very real needs. And boy, do I get cranky. I’m not naturally a cranky person but WOW can I become one.
What’s a mother to do? It’s all on me. And I’m tired of being a Vaudeville act all day long. I like classical music.
Dear Classical Mom in a Vaudeville House–
I am honored by your letter. I have heard that women such as you exist who long to finish what they start, who find a rabbit trail excursion distressing, who seek this odd sounding thing they call “order”?
Remember, you’re talking to a woman. . .