Most days, I feel like I am a terrible mother. I don't always find joy in mothering my three children. As I type this, I realize how awful this sounds. I know I am being judged. RIGHT. THIS. SECOND.
I thought about rephrasing my second statement, but I'm not because it's the truth. When I drop the two little ones off to preschool and daycare, my soul rejoices, because that means I have 8 hours where I don't have to do anything for anyone, except me. Brinn.
There are so many things I wish people would have told me about being a mom. No one talks about the bad moments. Moments where you want to run and never come back. Moments where you just don't care. (Sure, eat off the floor. Wear your princess costume to bed. Do whatever.) Moments where you think you are failing miserably and at any second someone is going to find out and take your kids from you. Moments where you lose your temper and want to give yourself a timeout. Moments you want to serve your kids a warm cup of STFU. (Thanks to my friend Amanda, for that one.)
It happens to the best of us, but most of us would rather eat glass than to admit it because people shame mothers who tell the truth about parenting. Society wants us to believe it is the best thing since press-on nails (I will have a blog post about my newfound addiction soon.) and to have the audacity to say it isn't means you should be damned to hell because there are COUNTLESS women out there who would give their right arm to be a mother. I get that. I do, but the other part most people forget is we are human and not everything is rosy all the time. Don't add emotions in there and that's when the party REALLY starts. Emotions I sometimes don't understand. Emotions that make me say, "Oh crap"! Emotions I am scared won't go away. Emotions that rip me apart and somehow I patch myself back up because the show must go on. Emotions that make me ask myself, "How can I take care of YOU, when I can BARELY take care of myself?" Yeah, THOSE emotions. Those effin' emotions. So when you mix your emotions with kids and not enough wine or sleep, it makes for a crazy mix of potty mouth, exhaustion, and frustration. Guess what?! That's ok. I am giving you a pass to feel this way. (You're welcome.)
It's not everyday I feel like this, but some days I do and when I do, I don't beat myself up anymore. Instead, I give myself a little bit more patience served with a side of grace. I dust myself off. Just kidding. I normally dust my house (I am a clean freak.) and then I dive right back in- ohhing and ahhing over my three little miracles, until I hit a tough spot again. And you will. We all do. How we recover is the most important thing and I have mastered recovery. (Not really, but whatever.)
Now that I have that off my chest, off to pour a Scandal size glass of wine and give it a whirl one more time. If you haven't invested in one of those glasses, do so now. They can be found here. (Thank me later.)
P.S. The picture is a Soybean original. She thinks of her electronic cat as family. Do you see it? I hate that thing.