I want to be a good Stay-at-home Mom (SAHM). I want to be a good wife. I want to be a good woman, friend, sister. I want to take care of the boys and do things with them like arts and crafts, cooking or outdoor adventures and learning. I want to be cheery and happy and laugh all the time. But instead I’m guilty, because I’m not all those things.
I know I’m a good Mom. Hell, I’m a great Mom! It took me a long time to realize that and even longer to actually accept and own it. Even when I struggle with disciplining the boys or when we are all raising our voices at each other, I know I am the best Mom I could ever be to them. Other Moms I’m sure would possibly do things a little differently, but that’s what makes me Zackery and Brayden’s best Mom.
There are times, however, when I am just not happy being the SAHM. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. It’s hard, it’s exhausting, it’s overwhelming and it takes everything out of me. Perhaps it’s a case of “the grass is always greener,” or perhaps it’s just the reality of parenting (especially good parenting).
I say good parenting because I could easily just check out, but I don’t. I stick with it through the screaming, whining, hitting, “I hate you’s” (and yes I’ve gotten a few – even from Brayden… that hurts) and fits. I do it because I love them more than anything in the world. I do it because I know they need that tough love and discipline. I do it because I’m their Mommy and it’s my job – regardless of me being the stay-at-home parent or not. I do it because that’s what it takes to be a good parent.
I will admit I don’t always make the right decision, but I try my best in the given moment with each particular situation or circumstance.
This last week was particularly hard on me. Will was out of town for three days and it was just me and the boys. We had just gotten back from a great weekend of camping with friends and we were all tired and worn out from too much sun and fun. It was all up to me to make lunches for summer camp and preschool, get them up, fed, sun-screened, dressed and to their respective places on time, and then picked up, brought back home, fed, bathed and to bed. Not that hard, right? I mean they were both gone a good part of the day and it’s what I normally do anyway (aside from Will usually being the one who will get up with them in the morning and at least make Zack’s lunch).
I shouldn’t complain (there are plenty of single Moms out there who are great parents, without help, 24-7, and without a choice), but I am admitting to myself that maybe I’m just not cut out to be the perfect Wisteria Lane Housewife / Mother that I envisioned myself being. I’m admitting (again) that it’s hard.
I think the hardest part for me was not having that emotional support of someone else being there to give me a break. I would walk away for literally two seconds and Zack and Brayden would start fighting. I found myself so frustrated and angry. By the time I put them to bed I was genuinely upset – with them, with me, with Will for being gone. I don’t like feeling that way, and it stresses me out that situations like that get to me so quickly.
Writing is my outlet. It’s how I let go of my emotions – happy, sad, angry, loving. It’s always been a part of who I am, and when I don’t get to write I start to feel anxious. The more anxious I feel, the more I need to write, but the harder it is for me to find and create the peace in my mind that I need in order to focus and actually write. I know, it’s a vicious cycle.
There are some days I wish that Brayden was in preschool five days a week. He currently goes three. He loves it there and has even gotten mad when I come to pick him up too early. I have since started waiting until almost five o’clock to get him. I used to feel guilty for leaving him there all day, but he is learning, making friends, enjoying himself… and then I remind myself how much happier he is at school versus at home with me potentially (and probably) yelling at him and Zackery. I’ve let go of the guilt of leaving him there for a couple extra hours in the afternoon because it is better for both of us.
I dread the days when neither Zackery is in summer camp or Brayden is in preschool. It used to be that if I took them out of the house, or even in the backyard to play, they would be great together. It has gotten to the point where their sibling rivalry is in full effect (especially when I’m around). I’m wondering if it’s something I’m doing (or not) as their Mother, or if it’s just normal boys pushing their limits and testing me. I try to rationalize in my mind no it’s not anything I’m doing because I’m a good Mother, so it must just be them, but that isn’t always so easy to make stick.
Zackery is 99% easy on his own. Brayden is relatively easy on his own – although there are still no lack of moments (remember, he’s smart and stubborn like me). Together, Zackery and Brayden completely work me. Not intentionally, I’m sure, but they do.
So here I am, stuck between the freedom I want to be able to write and do my thing whenever I want, and the guilt I feel for wanting the freedom.
I had a friend tell me the other day how she experienced a moment of Mommy-guilt with her thirty-year old son. “It never goes away,” she told me. NOT what I wanted to hear, but somewhat comforting to know that it’s normal.
I know the key to everything is balance. It’s how to attain that balance that’s difficult. I can’t live in an extreme world where I am either completely unhappy, angry and frustrated or completely overjoyed and in solitude. I’m working towards something in the middle. I’ve realized that having another person to pass the baton to in situations where something isn’t working (ex: I’m screaming and no one is listening or happy), is critical to my mental health. If I’m going to continue to be the best Mom I can to Zackery and Brayden, I have to be at my best. So if that means giving myself a time-out (even if I have to do it by locking myself in my bathroom because no one else is home), then that’s what I need to do.
It’s okay to allow myself to feel all the ranges of emotion, I just need to control when those get released and how. If I get the chance to write, I will feel better. If not, I can jot down my ideas or feelings on a piece of paper (I have many!) until I can find that solitude to type it out – like now.
Maybe I’m wrong to make an assumption, but I’m assuming it won’t be this hard forever. Before I know it the boys will be older, grown up and able to care for themselves. Time is relative, and eventually I will have all the time in the world to care for me. I will always worry, love and feel, but hopefully this feeling of being trapped won’t last much longer.