breathe
.
okay, maybe i am exhausted. in between never ending laundry, always dirty dishes, and my son's constant nagging, here i am i desperately need a break. but i can't have a break. not without thinking that my son needs to change his diapers, or my sick daughter needs to drink her medicine. no. someone must think about those stuff and it's gotta to be me.
housewife-ing is overtime forever, underpay, overcommitment, and under-appreciate things to do. and some people called it easy? yeah, they must be martha stewart on steroid. or weeds.
this couple of days (okay, let's face it. everyday), my head constantly nagging me about everything. about my to do list (we're talking laundry here). about why am i less than happy here. about my brand new shoes that i wore only to my daughter's school which is only 10 meters away from my house. if i want to ignoring decency, i could probably walk there in my pajama (without a bath. and smell like cheese. like lots of bule does). i mean, here i am, in the middle of the old culture called europe that i was dying to see (well, groningen is a little to the north, and west), and in the middle of the day somehow i daydreaming hearing a passerby screaming,'Cireng, cireng!'. Dang!
not to mention that i smell like gucci rush with noodle as top note. hah?
but the thing that bother me so much is the feel that here, i am useless. that here i am just a laundry woman plus dishwasher plus nanny. i can't read without my son giving me his 'Hop on Pop' to read. Well, Dr Seuss is funny, but after hundred times, oh, come on? i can't do things in front of my computer without my son 'help' me by clicking the off button. and as a solitaire person, suddenly i just feel so exhausted. I mean, not that i don't love him. Of course. But i need my space. This woman needs her space. Her own. Where it's only her inside.
There's no such thing. My life is 24 hours surrounded by others. Oh, how it seems so selfish to ask for just a tiny hour where i can breath.
and i need someone to talk to. not that i am going to talk to someone. my bad experience of having so called confidante and then the confidante tell everything that you said to other people so practically the entire world knew (yeah, and i know the secret of the entire world through her mouth, too. is that supposed to be a symbiotic thing? Nahh..not to me, i don't want to know other people's secret) made me spill my brain to myself only. but the idea of having someone to talk too is soooo soothing. i mean, just the idea, why can't i have it?
okay. i think i need to eat more chocolate. i sounds like a desperate old woman. well, i use old woman shampoo. anyway, a mantra from the Prodigy the wise.
inhale, exhale, breathe the pressure
nope. no Pilates too. My son won't allowed it
.
okay, maybe i am exhausted. in between never ending laundry, always dirty dishes, and my son's constant nagging, here i am i desperately need a break. but i can't have a break. not without thinking that my son needs to change his diapers, or my sick daughter needs to drink her medicine. no. someone must think about those stuff and it's gotta to be me.
housewife-ing is overtime forever, underpay, overcommitment, and under-appreciate things to do. and some people called it easy? yeah, they must be martha stewart on steroid. or weeds.
this couple of days (okay, let's face it. everyday), my head constantly nagging me about everything. about my to do list (we're talking laundry here). about why am i less than happy here. about my brand new shoes that i wore only to my daughter's school which is only 10 meters away from my house. if i want to ignoring decency, i could probably walk there in my pajama (without a bath. and smell like cheese. like lots of bule does). i mean, here i am, in the middle of the old culture called europe that i was dying to see (well, groningen is a little to the north, and west), and in the middle of the day somehow i daydreaming hearing a passerby screaming,'Cireng, cireng!'. Dang!
not to mention that i smell like gucci rush with noodle as top note. hah?
but the thing that bother me so much is the feel that here, i am useless. that here i am just a laundry woman plus dishwasher plus nanny. i can't read without my son giving me his 'Hop on Pop' to read. Well, Dr Seuss is funny, but after hundred times, oh, come on? i can't do things in front of my computer without my son 'help' me by clicking the off button. and as a solitaire person, suddenly i just feel so exhausted. I mean, not that i don't love him. Of course. But i need my space. This woman needs her space. Her own. Where it's only her inside.
There's no such thing. My life is 24 hours surrounded by others. Oh, how it seems so selfish to ask for just a tiny hour where i can breath.
and i need someone to talk to. not that i am going to talk to someone. my bad experience of having so called confidante and then the confidante tell everything that you said to other people so practically the entire world knew (yeah, and i know the secret of the entire world through her mouth, too. is that supposed to be a symbiotic thing? Nahh..not to me, i don't want to know other people's secret) made me spill my brain to myself only. but the idea of having someone to talk too is soooo soothing. i mean, just the idea, why can't i have it?
okay. i think i need to eat more chocolate. i sounds like a desperate old woman. well, i use old woman shampoo. anyway, a mantra from the Prodigy the wise.
inhale, exhale, breathe the pressure
nope. no Pilates too. My son won't allowed it
.
hang in there, mommy. everything'll be alright :)
ReplyDeleteterimakasih :D alhamdulillah sudah baikan (thanks to chocolate?hehe)
ReplyDelete