Laundry at midnight

When my husband and I first married we worked the irregular hours that 18 and 19 year olds with something to prove worked: late nights, early mornings, day shifts, split shifts. Just as long as we were together at the end of the night we were happy. 

I would get off work earlier than him, and walk or bike to the service station where he worked and wait for him to be done. Once he closed the station late on Saturday night, we'd go home, cram all of our laundry into two baskets and go to the laundromat. We'd have the machines and the midnight hours almost always to ourselves in that little laundromat. We'd talk about hopes and dreams knowing that we'd not be working that hard forever. We knew some day we'd live in a house and have our own washer and dryer and we'd leisurely do our laundry on Mondays like proper folks.

Tonight, after a long, painful week I came home to the piles of clothes I left sorted on the floor. I never thought I'd be this tired. I never imagined that every single step would be this miserable. When we were young there were times when laundry at midnight was just what we did. And later there were times that laundry at midnight couldn't be tolerated. Children often dictate those times simply by existing as children. But tonight, the laundry needed finished.

After I dragged my weary self into the house and took care of the nightly duties that my husband usually does before I get home, I faced down the laundry. Four loads awaited me. So four loads I've washed, dried, folded and put away. In the end I hate doing laundry this way. I really want to believe that the kids notice me doing my laundry even at the end of an exhausting week, but its well past 1 a.m. now.  They'll never even think about what I did in the hours after they went to bed. I'm not sure they even realize just how exhausted I am at the end of a week.

Every day this week I've arrived home at a very dark hour exhausted and weary. My husband is working in a different state, leaving the kids and I to manage without him. I'll be honest, it is so hard. I don't normally grocery shop. I only do a load of laundry here and there. I don't normally take care of the pets. I'm not home during prime homework hours or even when my oldest gets home. I'm usually so exhausted that I don't line out the day for any of the kids. I exist until I can control my pain and fatigue and then I contribute with the occasional lesson taught, a little cooking and I work. I know my failings as a mom with this knee so I work as hard and as much as I can in order to at least provide financially.

This week has been so hard though. I don't know how on earth we are going to rebuild our lives if living is so damn hard. The pain and exhaustion, as well as obligations, are so daunting. I do not know how other parents manage. This week I've been on my own, and never has it been more obvious just how alone we are here. Other people have family and friends who they can count on but we really don't. Not in the sense that I can ask for help. 

Limitations

The injury I suffered a couple of years ago has destroyed not only the knee that it happened to but by compensating for it the other knee and two discs in my lower back are in serious trouble now. Some days its really hard to walk or move my legs. Usually at the end of the week I suffer more from the extra steps I've taken. My Sundays are spent mostly in bed or in a recliner. I hate it but its what I have to do in order to keep my family afloat.

While I jump through the hoops that insurance requires of me, and the conservative doctors in my areas hem and haw around about how to treat my compounding problems I still have to work and face every day. 

Sometimes when the pain is bad and my legs just don't work anymore I use a wheelchair. Its liberating being able to leave the house and go someplace despite the pain. There are some major downsides though.

Even as the chair allows me more freedom, its a huge inconvenience to the people around me. Its heavy and bulky and slow. I'm overweight and since I've not put the time into building my arm strength I'm slow. And I'm ashamed to need help being pushed on hills. I don't really know how to open doors by myself, and I'm not strong enough to manage some things on my own.  

Its embarrassing to my family. No one wants to load up the chair to go shopping or even out for a walk.  Its heartbreaking that I'm not going places because I need too much help. Its embarrassing for me to be a part-time wheelchair user too. I've used the chair at work a couple of times, usually at the end of a terrible work week when I was just incapable of walking into the office. Nothing has mortified me more than the person from advertising thinking it was OK to grill me on my wheelchair use when I was just trying to pick up my copies from the printer. 

I hate to call in sick when I'm perfectly able to do my work with a simple modification of using wheels instead of legs, but after that loud and embarrassing questioning I will not use the chair when most others are around. Fortunately, the last day of my work week is Saturday when the office is quiet, and a few tactful coworkers are the other people in the office.

I miss the days of going where I want when I want. I miss the days of taking the kids out for hikes. I miss walking my dogs. And I miss the nightly walks that my husband and I used to take.