We try before we cry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It’s something I started saying to Evelyn to help her regulate. Toddlers go straight to crying before they’ve even attempted the thing \u2014 the jacket zipper, the puzzle piece, the cup that’s too full. But once they calm down and actually try, they do it. Every time. Without even realizing they were capable the whole time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And then Monday, in a parking lot at the Y, I sat in my car and cried. Because I realized \u2014 I have been trying. For almost a year. And I finally gave myself permission to break.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Evelyn didn’t go to ChildWatch. Again. If you’ve been following along, you know this has been a battle. The catch is that if I don’t hold the routine, nobody does. I’m the one who takes her Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and sometimes Saturdays. If I’m sick \u2014 which, as recently documented, does happen \u2014 the routine drops and we revert. Every time. Back to square one. Back to me spending twenty of my sixty minute limit just trying to get her through the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I have sat in that room watching her play so she felt safe. I have stood just outside the door and kept the promise that I’d only be gone ten minutes \u2014 when I could have walked away and she never would have noticed \u2014 because I am building trust. That’s what it takes. I have made unnecessary trips to town just to maintain consistency. I have doubled back in the evenings after Nick gets home just to actually finish a workout. My mental and physical health require her cooperation \u2014 and his availability when she won’t cooperate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I have done this. Solo. For almost a year.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We got to the car with no workout done, her crying, me furious. And then we both lost it. Right there in the Y parking lot. She was screaming, I was screaming, and I’m sure to anyone walking by I looked like a raging lunatic. Raging was apparent, but if anyone had knocked on that window and asked \u2014 they would have understood the lunacy completely.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I vented via text right there in the parking lot. I wasn’t asking for a pep talk. I was asking to be heard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When we got home I put Evelyn in her room with the gate up and went into the sunroom to catch my breath. I told her I needed space to calm down. She started crying anyway. And then Nick picked up his laptop, walked into her room, and sat with her. Calm. Present. Steady.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And I sat in the sunroom feeling like the unhinged, emotional mess while he was the calm one \u2014 because I had broken.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That’s the part nobody talks about. The moment you finally break because you haven’t asked for what you need and it feels like failure. Because the person who hasn’t been carrying it can step in without missing a beat \u2014 and instead of feeling relief, you feel replaced. Like all the proof of everything you’d been holding just became evidence that you couldn’t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I HAVE BEEN.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her sleep schedule. Her feelings. Teaching her independence. Building her courage. Protecting Nick’s work hours. Protecting his gym time. Protecting everyone’s everything. And somewhere in the middle of all of that, trying to carve out a window for my own mental and physical health.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I wasn’t just frustrated. I was resentful. And I’m not going to pretend otherwise.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Nick had his own chat with AI \u2014 “our almost four year old is being a piss pot to her mother, what can I do?” I appreciated the thought. What sent me sliding into that thread so fast I got rug burn was the response: if it’s mostly directed at mom and no one else, she may need more 1:1 time with mom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
WHAT. THE ACTUAL. F*.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I take her to my therapy sessions. I take her to the gym. I take her everywhere with me. I genuinely don’t know how much more 1:1 time I could give her without sleeping with her. I had my own chat with AI after that \u2014 slightly more validating, for the record. I’m also following up with my therapist on Thursday.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Tuesday morning I strapped Evelyn into the Osprey carrier and mowed the entire lawn in under an hour. Thirty-five extra pounds on my back. Nothing clears your head like manual labor and the knowledge that your toddler is too strapped in to go anywhere.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The whole time she kept asking me “do you see it?” I had absolutely no idea what I was looking at. “Yea baby, I see it! Thanks for sharing your excitement with me!” Whatever it was, she was delighted. And so was I.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And somewhere in the middle of all of that \u2014 the heat, the hum of the mower, the weight of her on me \u2014 something clicked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Nick is not the enemy. Evelyn is not the enemy. Nick is involved. He is present. He is not absent. But present doesn’t always mean seen \u2014 and seen doesn’t always mean heard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Recently I mentioned that his daughter hadn’t communicated much to me about her testing day. His response was “lesson learned, get the details before she walks out the door next time.” And my immediate thought was \u2014 this is YOUR daughter. Why is it MY responsibility to track everything for everyone in this house? As if I don’t already have everything in a mental and physical calendar.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He wasn’t being cruel. He just didn’t see the weight behind the question. And that’s the disconnect. That’s what I haven’t been saying out loud.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His inability to see what was happening is partly on me \u2014 because I haven’t said it. I do the birthdays and the meal planning and the yard work and the card shopping because those things matter to me. I planned that surprise sweet 16 because that girl was hurting and I wanted her to feel special on her day. I do all of it because it is what makes me feel accomplished as a mother and as a partner.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It is my mark being left in a world I won’t always be in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It is the hope that one day it will be missed \u2014 even if right now it’s expected and sometimes thankless. Or invisible.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And here’s the part that hit me hardest: I didn’t try before I cried in that parking lot. I didn’t ask him to take over the ChildWatch drop offs. I didn’t ask him to walk that mile. I want him to want to help \u2014 and he does \u2014 but he doesn’t know how if I don’t tell him. I spent so long saying I HAVE BEEN DOING that I forgot to say I need help because this isn’t working how I’m doing it and I need to step back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I took a break from writing this to stand in my kitchen and listen to “Cosmic Love” by Florence and the Machine. If you know, you know. And then I looked down and Evelyn looked up and we made eye contact mid “ooh-ooh-ooh” and just started jumping and singing together. In that moment I could see her at a future F&TM show with me \u2014 both of us knowing every word \u2014 and I realized: these are the things she will remember. The dancing. The singing. The Tuesday morning in the kitchen when her mom came back to herself a little bit. This is the 1:1 she may need more of.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I hope Monday’s anger doesn’t stick. But I think the dancing will.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Because that’s what we do. We are always trying before we cry. And when we cry \u2014 really cry \u2014 it’s because we can no longer do. We have nothing left to give. And that is not weakness. That is a woman who has been showing up so long her body finally said enough.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So stop. Cry. And then figure out what actually needs to change.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
If you are the one who holds everything together \u2014 the routines, the birthdays, the emotional labor, the invisible work that nobody sees until it stops getting done \u2014 I see you. Drop a comment and tell me one thing you do that nobody else in your house knows how to do without you. Because I think we need to start saying these things out loud. \ud83d\udda4<\/p>\n\n\n\n
P.S. \u2014 We try before we cry. But we also deserve to cry. And then we figure out what’s next.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" We try before we cry. It’s something I started saying to Evelyn to help her regulate. Toddlers go straight to crying before they’ve even attempted the thing \u2014 the jacket zipper, the puzzle piece, the cup that’s too full. But once they calm down and actually try, they do it. Every time. Without even realizing […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-502","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-life-lately"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/502","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=502"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/502\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":507,"href":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/502\/revisions\/507"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=502"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=502"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=502"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}