"Spring" 

A poem by Patrick Walden

I am a bunny jumping in the grass.

I am a goat baaing at the sky.

I am a dog scratching at the door.

I Can't Be Your Friend Right Now

That title looks about as bad in writing as it sounded in my head.

Yet, this is where I am.  This is all the truth.  Full disclosure.

I can't be your friend right now.  I want to.  I do.  I want to meet for lunch, have drinks, dinner, go shopping, talk on the phone for hours.  But I can't.  It's not that I don't like you or that I am trying to avoid spending time together.  It's just the time...I don't have it.  And I'm sorry.The time I do have, it's already committed elsewhere.  Sometimes, it's an hour alone in the living room after the kids go to bed, or a late-night bath.  Sometimes, I like to talk to Adam and let him fix all of my supposed problems.  It's just that...I'm needed here.  And I'm already spread pretty thin.  It's not your fault.

I'm on Instagram and on Facebook.  I see all the fun things everyone is doing.  The things they buy.  The places they go.  The people they hang out with.  The things they do.  And that's not me.  Don't get me wrong, I do a lot of fun things.  I have a ton of great stories.  And I have a lot of friends...a select few who have stuck with me despite my polite bow out of my old life.  They know I don't have time for them.  (Most don't have time for me, either.)  Others are new friends, and I'm really good at text relationships.  Sometimes, I do get a couple of hours to get away, and it's more than I can begin to tell you to put on real clothes and properly do my face, shower and shave, and spend a few hours not talking about the kids or work or any number of chores that need to be done.  Sometimes, it works out that I can do that.  Most of the time, it doesn't.  It's not your fault.

When the kids were smaller, life was easy.  Slow.  Casual.  I had time to chat, to meet up, to go for walks and go out for coffee at night.  But all that has changed.  The kids, the four of them, they are all at such different stages.  Everyone needs something.  Everyone needs something all the time, and their needs are drastically different (and exactly the same).  I am always on.  I'm always moving.  I silence my phone, I don't return texts.  If I do, it's much later than it was received.  I know that.  I want to get back to you sooner, but someone just broke the plant and there is honey on the floor and one kid is screaming in the back yard (shit...did he just say he's bleeding??), and one is hungry.  Like now.  Hungry right now.  The doorbell is ringing, someone just climbed over the fence.  Work is calling, I have ten minutes to get out the door.  And there isn't enough of me to go around.

What I have going on here...I'm good at this.  I don't want you to think I'm that exasperated, miserable mom on sitcoms and commercials.  I'm not at all.  We laugh a lot, roll on the ground and play.  We snuggle and read and do homework.   My house is clean.  I do laundry to the point of exhaustion.  My fridge and pantry are always full, I cook hot meals every single night.  I'm usually solo-parenting, so the baths, homework, permission slips, diapers, groceries, appointments, errands...those are all me.  And I get it all done.  I'm always tired, but I get it all done.   And I work every weekend, so I haven't had a day off in, like, months.  But I'm actually really happy.  Just tired. So that time you want to spend, I don't have it.  That time needs to be spent here.  Right now, the five people for whom I am responsible need me.  My husband needs me at my best.  And that means I can't keep stretching myself.  That means, some things have to change. It's not your fault.

I like people.  I'm an introvert, but I like people.  I love to go out.  I love to make plans and keep them, but as I turn down another request for dinner or silence a phone call because I just don't have the time for either, I feel terrible.  Terrible.  My friends, I miss them.  But right now, this is where I need to be.  And, though I could make my life super complicated by really trying to balance EVERYTHING, it's not fair.  My priority is here.  It has to be.  One day, things will be different.  I'll have free afternoons and maybe get a day off here and there.  But for now, I just don't get either.  It's ok.  It's not my fault, either.

It's just where I am.  It's a good place, a temporary place.  A place I wouldn't trade if I could.  So, thanks for understanding, for not judging too harshly.  I appreciate your patience.  One day soon, we'll be friends.  And I can't wait. 

"Hatch, do you think I'm a good mom?"

"Yep. Everyone is alive and you have good snacks in the pantry, so you're fine. Don't worry about it."

It's not even ten AM and I already want a do-over.