life - in general, motherhood

stretch

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I am a working mom.

Most of the time I have made peace with this reality. But tonight it feels like I’m being asked to walk the plank. I’m an anxious, weepy mess. Which causes me to cling to my tiny baby while snapping at my ornery toddler at the same time. As Daniel Tiger would say – I have “mixed up feelings.” (I also have mixed up feelings about only being able to quote Daniel Tiger these days…who am I?)

I know there are many ways to experience humanity on this planet and many many ways to be a mother. And sometimes that means calling on the service of another nurturer to help care for your child. But my heart hurts tonight. It never quite feels right. I just don’t know how to make peace with handing my three month old baby over to a perfect stranger. And if you look at pure numbers, my children will be cared for by someone other than me for 54% of their waking hours. That doesn’t include the date night I may want to go on or the errands I might need to run without children in tow. The mom guilt is so deep right now it feels like I might drown in it.

I can’t say that I’ve been a particularly stellar stay at home mom for the past four months. The first month was filled with so many hormonal roller coasters and toddler tantrums that I think I may have blocked it from my memory. Months two and three had some rhythms – with trips to our library story time, playdates, and walks to the park. But by month four I found myself ancy to do adult things and never watch another episode of Doc McStuffins again. If I were able and chose to stay home with my kids I’d definitely need an attitude adjustment.

But that is not my story. My story is one of a woman who is the insurance provider and the steady paycheck for my family. And I also love to teach, a job that seems to bring out the best in me. So it’s not like I hate my lot in life. I’ve heard the juggling metaphor. And the many hats. And the feminist in me says “lean in”. But I know that, for me, being a working mom means I am going to have to stretch. And when you are stretched, there are no additional resources added to account for the increase in demand. It’s the same pot of time, energy, and positivity that will have to cover all parts of your life. This leads to a general shitty feeling about all parts of your life.

I guess I’m not looking for the perfect anecdote or anyone to attempt to silver-lining my situation. I know my children will be fine. I know it’s good for them to be social. And I know eventually they will have a great immune system (tell that to my daughter who ended up with hand foot and mouth disease TWICE in a year). I just kind of want to say “this sucks” out loud and maybe hear a few “amens” in response.  

Tomorrow I will stretch. I will pour myself into my work because it’s important and world changing. And then I will try to save a little positivity for my sweet children who are sure to test me when we enter the witching hours. Because who I am to them is also world changing. And when the house dips below sanitary levels of clean and my toddler has watched the lemonade stand episode of Henry Hugglemonster for the third time that day, I’ll lower my bar and try to cover myself with as much grace I would a dear friend.

Please send wine. And Oreos.

 

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