Being a mom is supposed to (or so I thought) bring about some great joy and fulfillment to the life of a woman who has embraced it’s blessings. At least that was the illusion (or maybe delusion of grandeur) I was under when I became pregnant with my first child. Fast forward two more kids later and the joy and fulfillment are more like experiencing perpetual anxiety and feeling defeated. Sound terrible, maybe….. but as a mom whose burning the candle at all ends (yup, apparently I have more than two) I feel as if I only get a fraction of the joy and fulfillment that I thought being a mom would bring in comparison to the angst, frustration, aggravation, sleep deprivation, and overall sense of failure I feel shrouded in. Motherhood is the hardest thing I have ever had to do and as my kids get older I feel as if I am sucking at it more and more. Trying to be everything to my kids is impossible and does no one any good. I end up cross and short-tempered and then my kids complain that all I do is yell. *sigh* I am not sure what the solution is… or if there is one. Selfishly I want some quality alone time so that I can re-energize my own sense of self, and in doing so be better for my kids. That however is so hard to come by – I’d have a better chance of being struck by lightening. Day in and day out though I wake up thinking that I am going to rock motherhood for that day and that that day will marks a new beginning, a turning point in my motherhood journey. Yet the day generally ends as most days do, motherhood has instead rocked me and basically knocked me on my ass. Motherhood 1 – Mom 0.
More to come….