Hi, I’m Tara.

What started out as a private blog to document our adoption journey has evolved into my journey through therapy, spiritual awakening and whatever I feel like writing. Without our struggles to build a family, I’m not sure I’d be waking up, and for that I’m grateful.


Sometimes, S and I are on the same wavelength, supporting each other through the challenges of parenting, working, and a desire to stay in shape.

Other times, like today, we can barely speak to each other without arguing. I'm not sure if this happened pre-kid. Probably, but now it all feels heightened in the wake of parenting stresses, travel stresses, and deadline stresses. 

The perfect storm of sh*t hit the fan over the weekend. I had to travel Thursday through Saturday afternoon. S has a design job due, and has been working every night until almost midnight for two weeks. 

We were supposed to get a dinner together sans kids. Well, Baby Z decided he'd rather develop a rash on Friday. S didn't have time to take him to the doctor Friday afternoon, and since he didn't have a fever, he took a watch and wait approach.  I got a text from S Friday night telling me that Baby Z was covered in an angry rash, so....anyway. Because of Baby Z's rash (could be strep...) we cancelled our dinner plans. Instead, I show up from the airport around 5:30 pm hungry and excited to see my family. S is waiting at home with a cranky Baby Z, a riled up X, and roofers throwing shingles off our roof. (Did I mention we got a new roof? And the weather sucked the day they were supposed to start? And so that meant they did it on the weekend? That was fun) S was exhausted, I walked into a maelstrom I wasn't prepared for, and tempers flew pretty quickly. Over what to eat for dinner naturally. The night ended on a positive note once we got past the dinner argument.

S asked me to watch the kids all day Sunday because he needed to continue working. Sure I thought, it's only fair. Except that by noon, as I stated in my previous post, I was ready to pull my hair out between the two of them. (a SAHM, I could never ever be). The afternoon fared slightly better as Baby Z took a long nap, X enjoyed his bike ride, then took a nap, and the roofers packed up and got the hell out. Our new roof looks very nice. Plus, I got more reprieve by teaching my Jazzercise class. I like that Sunday afternoon class for that very reason!

Sunday evening, it started falling apart again with Mr. Cranky (Baby Z) crying at nothing, and X refusing to pick up his toys. In the middle of it all, I discovered that S, instead of taking next week off to align with my day off on Wednesday (the one holiday that isn't observed on a Monday), is taking the following week off. Mostly because he can't look at a calendar. We talked about taking time off around Veterans Day, and...he didn't bother checking to see when that actually fell. 

I told him weeks ago, the date.  

I shouldn't be surprised, because scheduling is not S's strong point. I'm the cruise director of the relationship since I'm pretty damn good at keeping a schedule and updating my calendar. Most of our arguments center around scheduling issues and we haven't figure out how to resolve it. S gets mad at me for being huffy about his scheduling missteps, and I'm irritated by his inability to read a motherf-ing calendar.

So, here it is. I have a random day off in the middle of the week (seriously people, can we change this holiday to be "observed" like every other damn holiday?), I'm low on vacation time because I had to use it all for my maternity leave, yet I desperately want a few days off. But I don't want them by myself, I want to take the days off with S. To help foster our connection again. To be more relaxed and to have fun with each other. I guess that means I need to figure out if I can take a couple days off next week instead of this week. Except that the whole time I was traveling I was already looking forward to having Wed-Fri off this week. Changing that mindset is so hard to do.

NaBloPoMo November 2015

On Shame

#MicroblogMonday - My Introversion Clashes with My Kids' Extroversion