Thoughts from a burned out momma

It has been a long couple of weeks. My parenting has been sloppier than usual.

While rotating between summer shorts and winter coats, I have lost a certain je ne sais quoi. That is, I am no longer speaking in coherent sentences. My emotional IQ is at an all-time low, and last week, I tossed a bottle of deodorant at my son with a curt, “Wear this — you stink.”

The ability to retain basic information is completely gone, and still, my husband demands to know where I put his fire uniform before he leaves for work. Like I am supposed to remember everything?

If I could afford it, I would consider scheduling an MRI. But I would rather my kids attend college one day. Therefore, I have taken to diagnosing and treating myself via the Google.

Based on research, symptoms point toward Spring Fever, a grave iron deficiency or a parasitic twin siphoning off critical blood supply to the brain. It truly is anyone’s guess.

Thankfully, I am finding I am not alone. One mom I know showed up a week late for field trip duty.  Another dad departed baseball shy one kid. And the drop-off lane during morning carpool? Well, let’s just say I have never seen so many children leaping out of moving vehicles.

In the last couple of days, I have duct-taped a bike back together, skipped piano lessons and allowed my 7-year-old to cross a street by himself.

It is like I am living in a world gone mad.

Or rather, it is like I am living in 1978. All I need are some Parliaments, a crocheted toilet paper cover and a bag of Bugles, and my transformation would be complete.

Other recovering Tiger Moms warned me about this “Burn-Out Phase.” Ironically, I always thought they meant the kids. My three boys have been eyeing me suspiciously ever since I forgot to chase them out of the room during Goodfellas. I’ve even misplaced my nightly multiplication flashcards.

I can’t help but wonder if maybe this unusual behavior is actually beneficial for the kids — keeps them guessing, right?

Or maybe it is good to take a little time off, drink some wine with the neighbors and let Spring Fever take hold.

I think my parasitic twin would like that.

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