I still love being a mom…
…but lately I feel like I’m losing my mind a little bit. It feels like the baby fusses All. The. Time. and no amount of scheduling or cuddling or feeding or sleeping or playing seems to do the trick. And the constant fussing is wearing on me like sandpaper.
I still love being a mom…
…but lately I feel like I’m failing all three of my kids. The baby fusses. The toddler refuses to eat anything but crackers and her new favorite word is “NO”. The oldest was watching me play with the baby the other day and burst into tears because she wished SHE could be the baby. (Translation: mom is spending too much time trying to get the baby to smile and the toddler to cooperate and the oldest is getting the pathetic attention leftovers.) Sigh.
I still love being a mom…
…but I feel ashamed that this feels so hard. Ashamed that I can’t give them all the love and attention they deserve. Ashamed to think I’ve failed them in some way, big or small. Ashamed that I didn’t get the laundry put away again today. Ashamed that I forgot to have my oldest practice her spelling words before her test today. Ashamed that I have to lean on my husband so much for help with kids and housework when I stay home all day to be able to do those things. Ashamed that I feel ashamed.
I still love being a mom…
…but I wonder what I will do next. Once they need me a little less. When the next phase of parenting looks more like role modeling. Then who will I be? And how will this time spent at home have changed that path?
I still love being a mom…
…but being a mom isn’t always easy. In fact, it’s very rarely easy. Every day is a struggle with patience, with balancing structure and flexibility, with balancing routine and creativity, with balancing their needs and my own. Every day is a struggle to know what the “right” thing to do is.
Every day is a struggle to cook a healthy meals the toddler will actually eat while the baby is fussing to be held.
Every day is a struggle to load two little people into carseats and navigate school pickup.
Every day is a struggle to explain to a toddler why she can’t watch Frozen for the fourth time in a row or eat candy all morning.
Every day is a struggle with loneliness, with finding time to read or write so I don’t become a ghost.
Every day is a struggle in its own way.
But I still love being a mom.
I love that when the baby fusses, I’m there to pick her up. I love that even though the toddler is a handful sometimes, I get to be there to watch her wear her Elsa dress all day and sing over and over again until she gets it just right. I love that I get to be the one to greet my oldest after school each day, to ask how her day went and help with her homework. I love these little people So. Much. it hurts. I love these days at home with them So. Much.
In some ways, that makes the fact that it is hard even harder. Like, if I love them this much, if I love this stay-at-home gig so much, it shouldn’t be this hard.
But the truth is, I know that no matter what I do with my days, stay home with littles or go to work, there will be good days and bad days. Yet for some reason it feels more acceptable to have bad days at work. Expected even. But bad days as a parent feel like shame. Like failure. Like it shouldn’t be this hard. If I loved this enough.
It’s a lot of pressure.
Probably it’s because I care so much, so deeply. I am more invested in this “job” than any other. The stakes are higher.
Or maybe it’s just because my children know how to make me crazy.
Either way, the hard days are real. The days where I want need to sit down and write a blog post because I haven’t for so long, and yet the only thing in my exhausted brain to write about is how hard it is sometimes.
So I pray the baby sleeps a little longer and I bribe the toddler with a tube of crackers and I tell the truth.
That I still love being a mom, even when it feels like it shouldn’t be this hard.