I've been beyond overwhelmed lately. And truthfully, a large majority of that feeling comes from trying to keep all these plates spinning per usual in an effort to give the illusion that I am just as strong as the next gal. What's funny about that is that so often I find myself frustrated with the lack of honesty amoung moms. So unwilling to admit, for most of us (ya know the ones of us who aren't vacuuming in pearls), to be a B- mom is sometimes (usually) the best week can do. It's not for a lack of trying for that A+. Although there are days where we haven't slept for a week, we haven't gotten past the shampoo part of our shower routine and the lack of conditioner is taking it's toll, we're covered in a drool/chewed up food/baby poop mixture that has made itself stain remover resistant...and the need to try for an A+ is nonexistent. But generally speaking, of all the moms I know personally, we're all trying our friggin hardest.
So let me be honest. Let me tell you that I'm completely in over my head these days. Let me share with you this neurotic, control freak personality that has taken over. My friend Sarah recommended that I blog the stress out. I figure by doing so at least one of three things will happen: 1. I will quite literally blog my stress away and feel immediate relief when I hit the "post" button, 2. I will have at least made myself relatable to other moms and we can collectively give ourselves a break, or 3. Someone will read this and send me a fat check to pay for some top notch therapy because I am a certified looney tune.
I feel like I wake up every morning with a good attitude. I'm a morning person. Getting up early and having a full day is something I enjoy. So having a sunny disposition each morning is something I'm totally capable of. But within an hour of the kids and I being up, two little faces are crying at me, needing me to do...something...I should know their cues better by now...and all this loud crying has made me forget my plan already. And it's only 7am. I spend the rest of my day grabbing for slippery limbs while I'm falling out of the impossible goal tree. By the end of most days I sigh and say to myself "well they went to bed with fingers and toes. I guess that's something."
But with Charlie in a cast there's this new stress. There's the stress of this third element. There's no room in our inn for it. But it's here regardless. After 18 months of our lives revolving around spica cast care and medical jargon and specialists, I'm over it. And then I'm greated with my old faithful friend guilt. All this me, me, me stuff. Am I in a cast? Have I had to relearn how to stand or sit up three different times? Have I undergone surgery 3 times in 12 months? Sure haven't. This BABY is showing me up in strength. And then sweet Davey takes a spill at my parents house this week and scuffs up that button nose I love. Because I wasn't looking. And I know accidents happen. And I am that mom that just wants their kids to be kids. And that means scrapes and bruises sometimes. But I guess I'm giving myself a hard time about it because I already fear that all this time weve spent focusing on Charlie and all this time we've sent him over to the grandparents house through all of this, is the beginning of a complex. I worry he won't know his value to me. What if he cries when one of his grandmothers hands him to me? I haven't been able to give him my full attention. And because if my lack of attention, he fell.
The good news is, I know I'm being irrational. The other good news is I obviously am over the top in love with my children.
But it's a lot right now. And today I just looked at them both and cried. I looked at that cast and that banged up face and thought, "I'm failing." Maybe that's too harsh. I'm not failing. It hardly seems like I'm doing great though. I keep joking to people that I can't go to the grocery store with both kids any time soon. If people already give me weird looks about one child in a cast, what will they think when the see two kids with ailments? We'll be Herman's hermits for the next couple weeks.
Ya know what EVERYBODY (not just moms -all of you)? Maybe there's something to be said for how hard we try. The amount of effort we put forth. Actions speaking louder. Maybe Davey won't have a complex about my lack of attention because when I DO see him, he is smothered to smithereens in hugs and kisses and "I love you"'s. Maybe Charlie will never care about her scars. Maybe she'll be a track star because she knows what it took to get her walking. Maybe all this B- work will still result in amazing, wonderful people. Judging by results from the last 18 months, they're gonna be awesome whether or not I condition my frizzball head.
I'm gonna always shoot for an A+. My kids deserve that effort. But I'm gonna work on accepting the fact that a B- is still above average. And that ain't bad.