I did not enjoy being a mom today.
The guilt that comes with that admission is staggering. I’m waiting for DFS to come to my door at any moment and take my kids into custody. I feel horrible admitting that even though I love my children, some days I just don’t like being their mom very much. But if I’m being honest on this blog, I have to include the good AND the bad.
There are lots of reasons why today wasn’t my best day. One of them is because they bicker when they are together. Jackson is a different kid Monday through Friday when his big sister is in school. But when she is home in the evenings and on weekends, the territorial disputes go into overdrive. And their already diminished ability to hear my voice when I try to correct their behavior is further obliterated when they are intent on making the other whine or scream or snort during lunch.
Another reason is a little bit of grayness in my heart. Today would have been Mom’s 70th birthday, which is – plainly put – a sad day regardless of anything else going on in my life.
The weather is rainy and misty. It’s been dreary and somewhat chilly this past week, which means a little more time cooped up in the house with the kids. Dan is working long hours. And I have the same cabin fever feelings I have in mid-February when the ice and snow keep us holed up inside, begging for some sign of spring.
Except this is September, and summer was just here two weeks ago. How can my heart be so fickle and change from optimism to pessimism in mere days? The good news about being fickle is I know the pendulum will swing back the other way in the blink of an eye. I’m holding on for that.
Have patience, my soul!