I read this article.It brought me to tears.In all sincerity,it is so true....
You know those days when you want to quit being mom? Those days, you secretly wish your husband would call you and tell you to get out of your pj’s because someone will be over in 10 min to help you! Those days you just don’t want to practice patience, or deep breathing, or routine. You know.
It’s still dark out, yet he is ready to start his day so I start mine, whether I’m prepared or not. Because he needs me. Not just part of me. EVERY part of me. And so we just do. The diaper changes, and the tower building, and tractor noises, and the whining, and the tantrums, and the eating breakfast sprawled out on the kitchen floor, and the kisses, and the I love you’s.
And the reminders. The frustration. The clean-up. The repetition. The watching of the clock. And the worries. Do I measure up? Can I actually raise, soon to be 2, smart, loving, contributing, faithful men? The pressure sits heavy on my chest.
Because I see things you don’t.
I see the time I lost all control with my 18 month old for pulling everything out of the bathroom drawer and scolded “You are naughty!” Or the time I made my toddler stand outside my bedroom door so I could regain a moment of sanity and maturity. Or the time I dismissed playing blocks because I had 3 weeks of piled up laundry to put away. Or the time I relied on Peppa the Pig to babysit my son so I could work my business for an hour.
Or the time I snapped at my husband because he doesn’t understand why there are toys scattered through every inch of the house when he gets off work, or the pressure I sometimes feel because I take on too much, or the 973 compartments I am sorting through in my brain on a daily basis. I see the times I check out forcing him to take on daddy duty from the minute he steps in the door until the minute he puts our son to bed.
Am I alone in wondering if failing is the only way to learn? Like am I doing enough? Are we doing this thing right? Then I remember. Being a mama bear, is hard. Some days, it’s just really. flippin. hard.
It requires more strength than you could ever lift in a weight room. Because love is heavy. But no matter how hard or heavy those moments are we keep going don’t we. We juggle as many balls as we can while holding on tight to our coffee.
But we keep going. Because at the end of the day…it doesn’t matter how long we stayed in our 4 day old jammies. Or if we lost our temper. Or drank a glass of wine at 3 pm. Or clung to the end of our rope until Daddy got home. What matters is our touch, our time, our eyes and our ears. What matters is taking a second to sing the ABC’s and the giggles while playing cars and the dancing to Mickey Mouse and the hugs when frustration sets in and they can’t tell you why. Even if you’re on your 2nd can of dry shampoo for the week.
Man, we love our babies fierce. Through the catering, the cursing, the cuddling. So fierce.
Let those moments be your reminder that you ARE enough. You ARE doing a good job. And your child loves you more than you’ll ever know. Your work counts. Even the unseen at 3 am. Your to-do list, your lack of organization, your disorientation of time...those things don’t define you, nor does the opinion of others. Just keep going. Let’s keep going.
It’s still dark out, yet he is ready to start his day so I start mine, whether I’m prepared or not. Because he needs me. Not just part of me. EVERY part of me. And so we just do. The diaper changes, and the tower building, and tractor noises, and the whining, and the tantrums, and the eating breakfast sprawled out on the kitchen floor, and the kisses, and the I love you’s.
And the reminders. The frustration. The clean-up. The repetition. The watching of the clock. And the worries. Do I measure up? Can I actually raise, soon to be 2, smart, loving, contributing, faithful men? The pressure sits heavy on my chest.
Because I see things you don’t.
I see the time I lost all control with my 18 month old for pulling everything out of the bathroom drawer and scolded “You are naughty!” Or the time I made my toddler stand outside my bedroom door so I could regain a moment of sanity and maturity. Or the time I dismissed playing blocks because I had 3 weeks of piled up laundry to put away. Or the time I relied on Peppa the Pig to babysit my son so I could work my business for an hour.
Or the time I snapped at my husband because he doesn’t understand why there are toys scattered through every inch of the house when he gets off work, or the pressure I sometimes feel because I take on too much, or the 973 compartments I am sorting through in my brain on a daily basis. I see the times I check out forcing him to take on daddy duty from the minute he steps in the door until the minute he puts our son to bed.
Am I alone in wondering if failing is the only way to learn? Like am I doing enough? Are we doing this thing right? Then I remember. Being a mama bear, is hard. Some days, it’s just really. flippin. hard.
It requires more strength than you could ever lift in a weight room. Because love is heavy. But no matter how hard or heavy those moments are we keep going don’t we. We juggle as many balls as we can while holding on tight to our coffee.
But we keep going. Because at the end of the day…it doesn’t matter how long we stayed in our 4 day old jammies. Or if we lost our temper. Or drank a glass of wine at 3 pm. Or clung to the end of our rope until Daddy got home. What matters is our touch, our time, our eyes and our ears. What matters is taking a second to sing the ABC’s and the giggles while playing cars and the dancing to Mickey Mouse and the hugs when frustration sets in and they can’t tell you why. Even if you’re on your 2nd can of dry shampoo for the week.
Man, we love our babies fierce. Through the catering, the cursing, the cuddling. So fierce.
Let those moments be your reminder that you ARE enough. You ARE doing a good job. And your child loves you more than you’ll ever know. Your work counts. Even the unseen at 3 am. Your to-do list, your lack of organization, your disorientation of time...those things don’t define you, nor does the opinion of others. Just keep going. Let’s keep going.
No comments:
Post a Comment