I can do absolutely nothing right.

My daughter's birthday cake just fell completely apart as I removed it from the pan.

Completely.

I am tired of everything I try to do in the kitchen ending in complete fracaso.

I learned recently that, to get a cake to frost well, one must freeze it first. So I thought I would actually plan ahead a bit.

I am not a cook. I don't know why I bother or try...except that I, for a change, actually wanted a piece of cake for a birthday and, since I'm off gluten and soy, I can't just go buy one and still eat it. I must make it.

I am tired of being the one to smile and say No, thank you.

As this happens, C is pelting me with some stuffed animal. I am the robber and he is the pizza man. I am tired of being hit by flying toys.

Feeling the rage boiling inside, I finally just yell.

WILL YOU STOP THROWING THINGS AT ME! WILL YOU JUST GET OUT OF THE KITCHEN? BOTH OF YOU. OUT!

I am tired of yelling at my children.

They just fled, C meekly uttering an "ok mommy" as they ran from the kitchen into K's bedroom. They have been fighting each other all morning, including while I had a student this morning.

I chose the wrong repair service, evidently, for my washer. It is filled with water and I had to hand-wring out my clothes yesterday after finally giving up. Yet I have had not a minute to sit, go through the phone book, try to blindly find (yet again) a more reputable service.

I am tired of having to make all decisions.

I don't have the patience and I don't want to. Honestly, I don't want to do anything. But I have to. All day yesterday I kept reminding myself of the women along the Río Tomebamba in Cuenca, Ecuador, washing their brightly colored clothing on stones in the freezing Andean water and then decorating the riverbank hillside with brilliant reds, yellows and blues to allow their clothing to dry. How I used to beat the ice out of my panties in Japan to get them to dry in the winter. What do I really have to complain about?

I'm tired of wishing to have my past life back.

The past three days, my children have flung themselves on top of me to bury me in hugs and kisses. I ask why; they say that it just looked like I needed to be hugged and kissed.

I will never tire of that.

But I just feel so tired. I would like to migrate south. I would like to not feel so alone. Amazing, how I am constantly surrounded by others, namely my children, and I can still feel so alone.