It's the kind of day where I can't tell if the tears that keep creeping up are from hormones, or from exhaustion, or from legitimate issues, or all three. It's been the kind of week where we push hard until 2am just to get this finished, because it has to be done. Only tomorrow brings something equally urgent and it's push hard until morning again. Just when I think we're done that, there is more to do after all.
Today I have yet another thing to finish. Something I put aside for the sake of other urgent matters all last week and just looking at it now makes me want to cry. I am done. I haven't got anything left. My reserves are exhausted and I am not only used up and wrung out but frustrated by what feels like my lack of ability to do something I should be able to do.
In these moments I forget the constant pushing, the endless doing of the days prior, and instead berate myself for not being in top form today. For not being able to push past yet one more thing and see it to completion. I keep trying, and crying tears of frustration, when I should just take a nap. And then I'm still not finished and children are needy, and the neighborhood is in my house again and I realize that today has been a total waste.
Just when I'm at the lowest he calls, and he says, "I say this all the time, but it bears repeating. You are amazing. You are doing a fabulous job. I can't think of anyone else I would rather do this with. You consistently amaze me with the quality of work that you can produce, and you do it all while still taking care of our children and making sure they are happy and well cared for. You're doing a good job hon."
Then I cry some more, and harder, thinking of the wasted day and the work undone, before I let the words sink in, and the tears wash me clean again.
Sometimes he just knows the exact right thing to say.