what about me?

This post has been in draft for a couple of weeks because there's a glimpse of my ugly in it.  But that's what we do here.  We do the ugly.  I might get some backlash, and that's okay, it's deserved.

The last couple of weeks have been filled with me doing quite a lot of work around my house.  And not just the domestic stuff I'm supposed to do.  Like dishes and laundry.  But the guy(ish) stuff.

Like tiling my bathroom shower.

And other stuff.

It's been nice to do things that make me feel productive.  Capable.  All that jazz.

I like to work.  I like to start a project and see the fruits of my labor.  I like to be good at stuff.  I've learned over the last few years that I'm good at renovating a house.  I know how to work with drywall, mud, tape, texture, paint, trim, tile, grout, flooring, etc. (i'm aware there's a lot more to renovating a house than just these few things.)

So I thought about buying a little fixer upper in town and that would be my job.

I talked to Josh about it and he thought it was a good idea.  He said he knew I'd be good at it.

Then it came time to plan out our school year/day.

I wrote out our schedule and our day ends about 3:00.  Then it's time to clean up the house, get dinner made, Josh comes home, we eat said dinner, spend time together as a family, clean the kitchen, ready the girls for bed and before you know it, it's 8 or 9 pm.

This doesn't really leave any time for me to have a job renovating a house.

I started feeling a little bitter.  Honestly, I'm still feeling a little bitter.  I know.  These girls are mine to raise and school and this house is mine to maintain, and these should be my dreams.  And they are.  They are.  But it's hard when you have other dreams too.  Dreams I don't get to pursue at this time.  I hate writing this.  Yet here it is.  Ugh.

I'm not good at this mama thing.  Or this teacher thing.  Really, I'm not.  But man I'm really good with a hammer.  When you do something, like mothering, on an hourly basis, and this thing is hourly as I am here all.the.time, and you see fighting, bickering sisters, or a lazy bones nine year old, you see how poorly you are doing at this thing.

But then you're given a hammer and you're good with that hammer and it's like, "wow!  this is what i wanna do ALL THE TIME!"

bah.

Here I am.  Writing all the words.  The too many words.  Always with too many words, Sarah.  And always the wrong ones.

It's just hard, friends.  It's hard to do the same thing day in and day out and feel so bad at it all the time.