This Sucks

My new favorite words are "This sucks."  The day we left Alaska to travel for twelve hours with the kids, we were about five hours in when Josh was like, "This sucks. I don't know how you do this all day."  Then last week when he was vacuuming for his party, he was like, "This sucks.  I hate vacuuming." 

It's funny, but those two comments made me feel really, really good about myself.  Like I was getting recognition for the difficult things that I do on a daily basis.

Well now my friends, I am walking a mile in your shoes, and I want to tell you.
This sucks!

Traffic? Sucks!
Grocery shopping with three small children? Sucks!
Trying to get somewhere on time? Sucks!

I had forgotten all about the parts of living in a city that were challenging. When I am in Marshall, everything in Vancouver takes on this ethereal dream like quality where being at the grocery store sounds luxurious and loading the kids in the car seems like it would be an amazing adventure.

Well I am here, and I will tell you:
-There are a million people on Mill Plain (a major thoroughfare in Vancouver) at all hours of the day.  And for the love of pete, could people go any faster? Where's the fire, people?!?
-Children "helping" me grocery shop generally means a lot of hurt ankles & harried apologies aimed at random strangers my kids have run over or accosted. 
-And the EVIL WITCH that I transform into while attempting to get my three sons out of the house, into the car, and across town for appointments, makes me cringe.

I applaud all of you.

It's true, living in rural Alaska is tough.  There are sacrifices I make to live there, and it's not for everyone, but stop for a minute and give yourself a pat on the back.  What you do here, in the city, (running kids to preschool, swinging by the park on hot afternoons, attempting to "keep up with the Joneses") is not easy.  I repeat, What you do is hard!  And I am impressed that you have the wherewithal to maintain it for twelve months at a time.  I am less than a month in, and I'm pooped!

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Can you tell that to my husband. I have an 8 yr old son and 3 yr old twins and I am constantly made to feel like I am doing a mad job. I am not allowed to be stressed out, I am not allowed to complain, I am not allowed to be tired, I am not allowed to take time for me. However...he is allowed to do nothing around the house. Sorry I need some major venting but as I am not allowed to have alone time with friends....you are the lucky one.