7.19.2013

I think that in our new age of technology and media, there is so much pressure to be a perfect mom. As much as I understand this in my head, my spirit can't seem to find the rational thinking needed to give myself sufficient grace.

These days are hard.

I woke up today, and after having promised myself to try to check facebook far less often than I do, I checked facebook. I justified the top-of-the-morning check by saying that I would only check it once in the morning, in my room, and leave my computer in my room. Anyway, on facebook, there was an amazing post from an amazing blogger about starting your day as a busy mom. It was short but concise, and I really felt good about being intentional with my day. I wanted to be kind and patient, and be a good mom, and play with my kids, and enjoy them, and enjoy the day. Did I mention patient? I really, really wanted to be patient.

But it was not to be.

I feel like I spent the whole day just below boiling, and reaching full boiling point a couple times. But I wanted it to be different. It's so hard on these days. The days when I have such good intentions, and want to try so hard, and want to be better. It's hard to feel like I don't have control of myself, or of who I really am. I am trying to become a better mom, but the struggle to be the mom I want my kids to have is really a hard one.

My crappy day ended at the pool. After the 5 year old bopped his sister with his beloved pool noodle for the umpteenth time, I told him that it was being taken away. I told him several times to go put it on our chair. And while this pregnant lady chases a one year old, her tolerance for repeating herself is apparently maxed out at about 5 times. So, after telling him several times, I plunked him out of the pool onto the side, and told him again to go put it down. He wasn't pleased. He was ticked off that I physically moved him, and probably not as gently as he would have liked. So he threw his pool noodle on someone else's chair, and after spying an open package of graham crackers, he picked one out and started to eat it.

I was mortified. It wasn't as if I hadn't fed them. I did. I got them supper at the pool, which in our world is a major treat. He was doing it to express the rage.

And then I got mad.

So the mom guilt really hit home when he was asleep in bed by 6:20. He was clearly exhausted. And while he is almost five, he is still just four. So what do I expect from a seriously tired four year old who has had a rough week? What do I expect him to do with a tired and pregnant mom who has such a short fuse on some days? I expect too much.

I am tired. I can't sleep at night, and have so many things to do that I can't get done. I am so frustrated with myself, and with life things that I can't control. I am upset, and searching, and hurt, and isolated. I have the biggest job in the world, and wonder if I am doing it well enough. I wonder if I would send my kids to me to take care of them. I wonder if they are going to look back and think that they had a crazy and unpredictable mom who yelled too much. I wonder if I am honestly sane, or if my up and down is something aside from normal. Because how am I supposed to know what normal is?

And I really wonder if tomorrow really can be a better day. Here is to better days.