I wanted to write a beautiful blog post, full of raw perspective and witty insights. I had some ideas, they were on the tip of my tongue…but they fluttered from my grasp before I could reach out to touch them.
The soundtrack in my mind is whining and crying. A low hum, a constant whimper. It’s actually the sound of my youngest protesting bedtime, despite how tired he is. The sound takes my thoughts away like sheets of paper caught in a hurricane.
It’s hard work, being a full-time parent and a work at home writer. I’m never short on ideas, but sometimes…it’s hard to hold on to them in the hurricane and chaos of my day to day.
I have a lot of guilt over how thin I spread myself, trying to accomplish everything I want all at once. I know where I want to be, I know what goals I want to accomplish out of life. It’s the getting there that is complicated, and the constant worry that I’ll miss a lot in the process.
I feel guilty if I’m not spending every waking hour with my kids, engaging them and playing with them. If I take a morning to write, I feel bad about it. But on the same hand, I know it’s healthy to encourage kids to play independently and entertain themselves. Mom guilt is a fun thing to try and process though. Even though I logically know that I am doing nothing wrong, I still feel like I am…or maybe just not doing enough. I could do more.
I hope that one day, they’ll look back and maybe be proud of me. I had dreams, and I fought hard to turn those dreams into a reality. I have achieved a lot in the past year, and I feel as if it’s made me a better person for it.
One of my greatest fears when I became a parent was that I would put everything I wanted on hold, and that my dreams and goals would evaporate as I became just Mom and Wife. I feared that it wouldn’t be possible to strive for success within a career as a mom and wife. I am determined to prove myself wrong. I didn’t want to lose me in them, and for a while…I did lose me. I stopped writing, I stopped thinking about my dreams and goals. I started worrying about crock pot recipes and cleaning, about rocking the hell out of this stay-at-home gig.
But that was slowly driving me insane. I missed the pieces of me that I put away for later, thinking they couldn’t be used when I was a mom of young kids. I had inadvertently fallen into the very mindset I feared. One reality slap later, and I took the pieces back out and promptly stitched them back on.
A mother’s mental state severely affects her children. I know that from first hand experience. My biggest fear is that I would wake up one day and have completely lost myself, the girl that I was and the woman I wanted to be, because I was so focused on being the best mom and wife. I didn’t want to be living through their accomplishments, instead of achieving my own.
It’s not feasible to be the best mom and wife. There’s always room for improvement, and I am a flawed human. We all are. Perfect is a made up word that doesn’t exist. The trick is to love people despite their flaws.
I hope they’ll love me despite mine.