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I think I'm going to stop reading so many mom-blogs. I really do. I know, I post on a blog. But that's not what I mean. I'm not talking about this site. I just spend way too much time looking at other mother's beautiful children, clean homes, craftily crafted birthday parties, and beautiful meals. I think, actually, I spend too much time on Pintrest.
I don't do any of that stuff. Heck, I consider myself lucky if I can get my three year old's hair brushed and my eleven year old to remember his socks.
I'm also going to stop believing the myth of the well-kempt mother. I think she exists from time to time, but never with any consistency. And that's what I learned this week. They tell you when you have a kid that it's going to hard, that your kids are going to misbehave and you'll have to deal with picky eaters and boys who protest the shampoo you bought them.
What they don't tell you, however, is that you're going to have a breakdown every once in a while. They don't tell you that you'll know other moms who make you feel like you're doing it wrong, or at least that they do it better. You'll look at those other moms and FLIP OUT because if they can do it, you should be able to do it. But you can't. And you'll break down, and you'll cry.
You'll cry, like I did this weekend. I'm not ashamed. I was at first, but not now.
My husband has been working overnights on the weekends over past couple of weeks. I figured it would be fine. I'm a grown up. Charlotte's an easy kid and Marc can practically take care of himself. Right?
Except that he can't. He's eleven. He still needs me to plead with him to take his dish to the sink, or to make him chocolate milk because Mom makes it better. And Charlotte's not always that easy. So, my husband leaves for work in the evening and I'm practically on single parent duty for the rest of the night. He comes home just after the sun comes up and goes to sleep, so I'm still on duty until he wakes up around lunchtime or so. I've got a violin lesson to take Marc to, errands to run, and just decompressing from working at my own job all week.
Not to mention just keeping them clean, fed, and entertained.
So, on Sunday, I just flipped out. I did. Charlotte refused to nap again, which would have been my only break from the incessent "I Wants". After half an hour of laying down with her, she was still not asleep. She heard her dad get out of bed and insisted she was done napping.
I was furious. I had a hissy fit. Yep. I stomped down the stairs, growling, shouting about how I needed a break and how exhausted I was. The house was a disaster ten minutes after I picked up, and I didn't know what I was going to feed them for dinner. And how many times can a boy play the same video game? Seriously! I needed a break!
There were tears. Of course, Charlotte was scared and cried, too. Embarassed, I went out to the porch to compose myself. When I came back in, Charlotte was fine. Marc hadn't even noticed (video games). I felt guilty. I apologized to everyone, to Charlotte, to whoever.
"It's fine," Mitch said. "I'm up, I'm home for the next few hours. Just go." He wasn't trying to kick me out of the house, no. He completely understood.
One of my friends told me her husband used to work overnights and that there was actually a support group for people whose spouses worked the night shift. I can't tell you how much that made me feel better. Another friend had me over for coffee while I watched her play with her babies. She was so calm and non-judgemental, letting me vent.
I stopped feeling guilty, and it sort of dawned on me that what I was going through had to be completely normal. It wasn't the first time I had to sort of break down a little bit. And those moms on those blogs that I read, they only show me what they want to show me. Of course they wouldn't show me the time they got fed up with making peanut butter sandwiches their kids wouldn't eat and screamed and slammed the front door. Who'd read that?
Oh, well you're reading this.
Well, anyway, I'm normal and so are you. No one tells you that motherhood can be so incredibly stressful that you just have to cry sometimes, or leave the house. And when a spouse is gone for eighteen out of 24 hours, three days in a row, for weeks on end, it adds to the fire.
So I have permission, and so do you. Break down! Cry! Yell! Leave the house for a couple of hours while you get yourself under control. Motherhood is stressful, and I wouldn't be doing it if I weren't strong enough. We're not here to try to impress anyone with our crafty parties and beautiful dinners. We're just trying to make it through until the end of the day. Being a good mom doesn't mean you're an emotionless robot.
After an hour or so out of the house, I was right back home again because I missed them. I love my kids more than anything in the world. But life is hard, and parenting is hard. We've gotta give ourselves permission to feel stressed so we can get decompress get on with more parenting. Sometimes parenting is really, really fun! But we can't enjoy it if we're stressed out all of the time.
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