That's what I've been feeling lately. It's crept up on me like a cold. A barely noticeable tickle in my throat that's morphed into an ache that's spread over my entire body. And I've become terribly sick. And terribly distraught. And terribly grumpy.
Sometimes it gets lonely when your constant companion can't speak English and oftentimes the monotony of dishes and laundry and dusting leaves me with such an empty feeling. In stark contrast, the rush of dislodging pennies, buttons and other small objects from the gullet of my choking (nearly) one year old has solidified my resolve to never leave the room for a moment. And sometimes I feel a bit trapped.
There are some really funny, enlightening, joyous moments to this "being a full-time mom" gig. But I've been letting the hard things get to me. My attitude lately has been no bueno and if I'm being completely honest I've been taking out a lot of my frustrations out on Zach, despite knowing it's not his fault. The fault, my friends, lies solely with me.
This is my life, my choice. To be a mother and a homemaker. It's a 24/7 job. I would hear other mom's say that before Franky was born and think "yeah yeah, but don't they nap?" and they do nap. But while they're napping you're catching up on all the other little things that can't be done while they are vying for your attention. And then you're on call all night long. And often times you're called up at 2 AM to comfort a tiny hysterical human who's sole desire in life is to be rocked and held whilst they sleep. And then sometimes after a long night of on and off sleep they wake up at 5:30 AM, bright eyed and bushy tailed, just to keep life interesting.
It is A LOT of work. And I'm not even doing it alone. Zach is an amazing father and is generous in his willingness to pitch in. But the truth is he's not a mom. And he can't do it as well as I can. And he's not always here. So it's up to me. To do this. To keep this place running smoothly. To keep the health department from being called. And to make sure my child is fed and clean and happy.
My life is no longer my own. And yet it's exactly the life I want to be living! And that makes it mine. My choice. I look at the responsibilities of some of the women I know and in comparison the giant cross strapped to my back is suddenly a couple of toothpicks in the palm of my hand.
Not only do I have the support of a wonderful husband and father, but he affords me the luxury of staying home to raise our son. He works hard so I can be here to cuddle him when he's sick and watch him take his first steps and teach him to clap and to count. I've got it good and I need to remember that.
I've been setting unrealistic expectations for myself. And I have come to realize that motherhood is just like any other job: the longer you do it, the better you become. I can't expect myself to juggle everything as smoothly as other seasoned moms I know. I just need to do what I can, choose to be happy and then chill out. I'm slowly getting better at this. I promise.