Calgon, take me awayyyy! When motherhood puts you over the edge.
Some commercials from childhood really stick with us.
Last Thursday morning at 11, I walked out of the apartment unannounced in a huff, fumbling to tie my sneakers in a hurry, and unintentionally slamming the door. I walked down my street at a clipped pace and listened to the rustle of trees, noting the few cluster of leaves that were already turning yellow. I walked by a row of window boxes filled with succulents and tiny peppers flushed red with ripeness. I paused briefly to look at a book with an interesting cover left on a stoop up for grabs, making a mental note to pick it up if it was still there on my return.
A walk always does wonders. Two hundred steps later, I breathe a little easier and slow my pace.
The moment the apartment door slammed shut was a moment of deja vu. It reminded me of the few times when the kids were babies when I’d hurriedly hand them over to Mark the minute he walked through the front door because I was so done. It had been a good hot minute since I ran from the apartment like that, in need of space, of air, of separation from the everyday that can sometimes overwhelm or even suffocate. This time, it wasn’t solely from the frustrations of parenthood, but an amalgam of things. To make matters worse, I couldn’t really make sense of what I was feeling. Sadness? Discontent? An empty hole? Just a jumbled mess of emotions as I fought back tears in broad daylight.