Hey there! I’m normally a pretty positive person on here, as I truly believe people come to this space for that type of feel. I don’t want to whine and complain nonstop, as I know plenty of people are going through things way worse than I will ever experience. However, I also feel that I owe it to you guys to be completely real sometimes, and today is going to be one of those times. Just a warning: I’m going to make myself super vulnerable and speak from the heart. It’s a scary feeling, but I am hoping just putting this post “out there” will be somewhat therapeutic for me. So here goes…
Guys, I am struggling. BIG.TIME. The last few weeks (or who am I kidding – more like months) I have felt very down on myself. I feel like I’m slacking in so many areas of my life, and I have no idea why. The main place I feel that I am failing at is my parenting. Last year I was very involved in Graham’s kindergarten class – this year I still have yet to set foot in there (besides parent-teacher conferences, which doesn’t really count because none of the kids are there). Yesterday Graham told me that they are having a Thanksgiving celebration in his class today, and that lots of mommies are coming in to do crafts and read to the kids. When I explained to him why I couldn’t be there, he didn’t get upset. But that look of disappointment on his face – ugh.
Nathan and I talked about signing the kids up for swim lessons this fall, and we both agreed it was really important. I have watched 2 sessions come and go without signing them up, and I feel terrible. Reagan keeps begging me to sign her up for gymnastics, and I even found the perfect class for her. But did I sign her up? Nope. And I have no clue why I didn’t.
My patience with the kids has also been lacking lately. With them being only 2 years apart, they are the best of friends and the worst of enemies. Competitive with each other too a fault. Constantly pushing each others’ buttons. Fighting for my attention. Talking over each other. Somehow Nathan can just let all of this roll off his back (mostly – although he does tend to yell on occasion when they push him too far). But me? I allow them to get to me, and it stresses me out beyond belief. Last Sunday I was solo parenting for the majority of the day, and I had grand plans to be a “star parent.” However, I think they could feel my stress level rise when I realized how much I needed to get done (without Nathan around to help). They became like sharks circling me after they had smelled the blood. I didn’t have a chance. After putting them to bed (at 7pm mind you) I sat down at the kitchen table and started eating. I have never really been an emotional eater, but I managed to down 2 huge bowls of cereal and more chips than I can count before I knew what was really happening. And the result? I still felt bad about the day (and my stomach was bloated). So I guess you can say they won that round…
The housework is another story. I am a certified neat/clean freak. I don’t like clutter. I hate dirty floors. I strongly believe sheets and towels need to be washed once a week. And yet, I have recently found myself letting certain areas go. I let 2 weeks go between bathroom cleanings. The sheets on the bed don’t get changed weekly anymore (gross, I know). There are kids toys sitting on my coffee table. And this morning I watched poor Nathan look through his closet to find something to wear, only to head into the laundry room to iron a pair of pants. Yup, my poor husband doesn’t even have ironed clothes in his closet. Again, ugh.
The evenings used to be my time to get things done without playing referee with the kids. These days I put them to bed, and face plant into the couch, not to move until I stumble upstairs to bed (usually after falling asleep on the couch). So while my intentions are there, I don’t have the motivation (or energy) to be accomplishing what I normally do. I am not giving Nathan the attention he deserves. And yes, I am beating myself up for that.
So there you have it. Probably not the post you expected from me today, but I feel strongly about “keeping it real” on here. I don’t have it all together. I struggle on a daily basis, balancing being a wife, mother, worker, daughter, sister, aunt, and friend. I have hundreds of balls in the air at any given time, and am constantly afraid of dropping one (or a few). There are days I feel like I am “one wave short of a shipwreck.” Is this the season of life I am in? And if so, why does everyone I talk to tell me to “enjoy these days – you will miss them someday?” Being a mom is hard work, and I just hope at the end of the day my kids know that I love them with every ounce of my being, and would do anything for them.