Lately my late night google sessions have turned to blog posts from other moms.
Reminders (little or big, but desperately needed) that I am not alone in this crazy parenting world. That it IS a tough job (no matter how much we all want to make it look easy). That EVERYONE has bad days, and it doesn’t mean I’m failing.
When Briley was first born I had no idea what I was doing. But I was young and she was my first, and I was almost completely alone, so I excused my mistakes. I knew I wanted to be a good mom, but I didn’t take it too hard when we had a bad day (or 4).
When Mavrik was born, (especially because it was Taylor’s first baby baby), I felt like I had to know everything, and I had to do it all right. Because this was my second, and I’m a mom. It’s a moms jobs to know how to fix everything.
Here’s what I surely wasn’t prepared for.
One kid feels like one kid.
But two. oh man. Some days it feels as if there are 10 tiny people running circles around me, trying to see how far they can push me to the edge.
Before I yell. And cry. And tell my husband I am running away.
Because although I am not proud, I have done all of those things. More than once, and probably not for the last time.
Sometimes I think they were sent here to torture me. (Grandparents revenge, right?)
Sometimes I have to talk myself out of a glass of wine before breakfast is even over.
Sometimes I feel like I am not cut out for this, and want to throw in the towel.
Sometimes I hate being a stay at home mom. The routine of it. The “unproductiveness” of having nothing to show for all of my efforts at the end of the day.
Sometimes I count down the minutes until bedtime, and then cry when I see them sleeping because I realize how fast it’s all going.
And the worrying (I will assume this part only changes with their age, but never actually gets any better):
Am I doing good enough? Am I instilling the right values? Am I building a strong enough bond they will still come to me when they are older? Am I concentrating on all the wrong things?
As I’m writing this, I would like to point out Briley is brushing my hair and telling me I am the most beautiful mommy ever, and Mav is destroying the newly cleaned kitchen (he is also having a fantastic time doing it. The simple things in life).
I don’t want to sound like it’s all bad.
Because it’s great.
But that’s easy to hear.
“It’s the best job I’ve ever done.”
“I’m so blessed to be his mommy.”
and I agree. I really do.
But those are the comments that can make a mom feel alone. Like she’s the only one who isn’t enjoying every single like every other mom.
But it’s not all fun and games.
I miss sleeping in, or at least sleeping through the night.
I miss being spontaneous and free and irresponsible.
I miss my body. Oh what I’d give to have that body back.
I miss having conversations with people that didn’t involve the topics of diapers, sleep training, and how timeout is working for talking back.
I miss being selfish.
And I know this all sounds selfish, it feels selfish. But it’s how I feel sometimes, and I can’t think that I’m the only one.
Sometimes the cold, ugly, cannot believe someone would say that out loud, truth can be so refreshing.