Just wondering if anyone else started their day as a collapsed, sobbing ball of motherhood on the floor this morning….no?
To be honest, I tweaked my back wrestling my 2 year old to get dressed and just felt defeated… Laying there in my low point, my 8 year old tells me, “you’re just stressed, mom.” So I picked my ass up off the floor, reapplied my mascara and carried on, like mommies do.
Mornings can be challenging for me. Getting 3 people ready and out the door in 45 minutes… That’s 3 different levels of altertness and focus, 3 different moods… The day ahead has 3 different goals: work, school, day care; that’s 3 different worries, excitements… You get where I’m going with this.
So when a morning goes well, I am like a tear jerking Nobel Peace Prize recipient, “I’d like to thank Jesus… And Elias and Mathis.”
But when it goes bad… what a bitter taste it leaves… when the only 45 minutes you get with your children is spent in a struggle. This is likely the most chronic of all the mom guilts. Even if you successfully end the morning drop offs with I-Love-Yous and sweet kisses, the regret follows us through our days, reminding us that we have yet again failed to keep our shit together. You can’t fucking wait to see them again and show them mommy is loving, and patient and fun.
And when the day progresses into evening… your kids are actually happy to see you… a bad morning didn’t ruin their day and somehow they still think you walk on water. I suppose that’s Family… Eternal forgiveness and understanding. We are imperfect beings, us mothers, in a world that demands perfection. We have to be patient with them as well as with ourselves. And there is always (usually) tomorrow.