In my nearly six years of parenthood (more if you count pregnancy), I have often found myself consulting the wise and powerful Google for answers to things I never thought I'd need to know. There are forums, blogs, research articles, and books at my disposal to solve problems with everything from what goes into your kid (milk or formula, how much fiber or vitamin C, safe and unsafe medicines), to what comes out (diapering, potty training, screaming fits, vomiting, bleeding). There's advice for everything. I really try not to put myself in that category because I don't think I'm special.
Recently, it has been weighing on my mind that I have done something that is really unsettling for me, that most of those other mom's and doctors tend to do. I have allowed you to believe that I've got it under control. When I answer the phone (for anyone but my partner or my mom) I always sound chirpy and upbeat. When I blog, it's always about success. If you saw me in the grocery store, my hair and makeup would be done, I'd be nicely dressed and smiling. And, while I am doing just fine and I don't want anyone to worry about us as a family, I think it's important to be realistic.
I bake, clean, cook, homeschool, and manage to take care of myself. I'm planning to add some backyard farming to that in the spring, and make it extra complicated with breastfeeding and cloth diapers. But I'm not doing any one of those things perfectly, or every day. Sometimes I drop the ball for more than a week at a time on laundry, and don't bake at all for a month because I'm tired. So, this is for all of the moms out there who aren't Suzie Homemaker, even if they do a great job making everyone else think they are.
Sometimes, I don't get enough sleep at night. I'm a light sleeper anyway, and my partner sometimes talks in his sleep or elbows or pushes me away. Sometimes, (honestly, a lot in the late months of this pregnancy) I fall asleep on the couch in the morning while the kids play in their room. I know I'll wake up if they need me, and I'm always up in time to make lunch. Besides, I'm useless when I'm that tired.
Sometimes, I lose my temper. There is a limit to how many screaming fits over, "she won't let me play with that!" I can handle. I have a theory that it's like a line at a popular deli in the winter at lunch time. Patron after patron can line up, waiting to be served, but their orders can only be processed at a certain speed. After a while, people are lined up all the way out the door, in the cold, getting irritated. In other words, if I don't have time to iron out the frustration from the last screaming fit and resulting timeout, the next one just piles more on top until I eventually start fuming.
Lately, I generally don't do the dishes, I only do the laundry maybe 2/3 of the time, and I almost never make dinner. This has been slowly developing as I become more and more encumbered by baby E. My partner has been very considerate in helping pick up the slack, since I need to be sitting or lying down more.
I'm wearing my pajamas most of the time. I have several outfits of pajamas. I take a shower or a bath every day, and make sure that my clothes are clean. But I don't see why I should bother getting dressed, doing my makeup and hair, and making myself uncomfortable if I'm literally going to be in the house all day. This is especially true regarding maternity wear. And if there might be finger painting or children baking going on that day, I'd much rather get my PJs messy than my nice clothes.
I talk to myself when the kids aren't around. This is mostly only when I'm in the bathroom, or when they're napping. I think I do it because I don't like being removed from other adults all day. This is also why I don't like for my partner to go grocery shopping on his way home from work or spend an evening out with friends without me. Of course, I let those things happen because they should, but that doesn't mean I don't wish he was home.
And, let's not forget, I got fired. I didn't choose this role for myself. I clumsily, and with much resistance, fell into it. I wanted to be a career mom with an important job that my kids could tell their public school teachers and friends about. I wanted to make them proud of me, and I wanted to be proud of myself. I thought a career was how I would get there. I still think that's one great way to achieve that goal, but I'm finally glad I'm not on that path anymore. It just took me about a year to stop struggling. And all of these homemaker hobbies I've picked up are mostly a result of failing at my office job, and subsequently failing to find another job that paid well enough, last winter.
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