Less than flattering light

There are 6 kids in my house right now.
I am the only adult.
No anecdote I would illustrate can make this appear picturesque..
I want to herd them out the door and lock myself in the house.
I want quiet.  I want space.
I didn't get enough sleep last night.
My eyes won't focus.
Nothing is clear, not my brain, not my eye-sight, not my empathy.
I need to reset.

Like when we'd play Nintendo as kids.
We'd get so furious with the game.
One of us would kick the console, and it would reset.
Then we'd have to start all over, but at least there was some release.
We didn't have to face the same dragon one more time.
I remember throwing the controller at the T.V. and screaming
"Why can't I beat this!"
It was understood.  This was necessary in order to deal with the stress of Super Mario Brothers.
No one could be faulted for such behavior.

I've had to modify these outbursts into the controlled form of exercise.
Because now I am 32 years old.  I can't just yell and break stuff anymore.
That's called child abuse, and rightfully so.
Right now, I just want to put on my running shoes and streak out into the rain.
This is day 3 between runs, and the pressure is.....tight.

Everyone wants to hit each other.

The only one I like is Beckam.
Because he is innocent.
Not for long though.
And I am having one of those moments where everything seems tragic.
I will forget him as my baby, very soon.
So I have to go now and cuddle him until sunset.
Look into his eyes and know purity.
When Andrew gets home, I will go and run and maybe cry after I'm done.

That's what I did on Monday.
I curled up on grass, head pounding with music.
I pulled my knees into my chest and cried to myself.
The small, silent cry of a mother.  The kind no one ever sees.
Because it is all too much, and I only get tiny moments of relief.
Then I have to plunge back in and find some way to be nice.