Blogs are what we make of them. It's a chance for people to get a glimpse at what you allow them to see. I think it's natural in a way, despite airing our lives out on a webpage, that people self censor. Who wants to put all the ugliness of their lives out there. Who wants to admit self doubt, self pity, hell the occasional bout of self loathing? Not many.
Including myself. I know I tend to write fluff pieces a lot. I whine and complain about this and that, but all in all, nothing of great importance or anything that could be labeled as anything but fluff with a sense of humor.
So when I write that I am tired and fed up and the person I'm fed up and tired with is primarily me it's not an easy task. I've been going over and over this in my head for most of the day. And when it comes down to it, I'm human and this is my space. And today has been one of those days.
I know I have so much to be thankful for. I know that I am blessed, truly blessed to have two amazing children in my life and one on the way. But dammit if I'm not just feeling like a dud lately. As if this motherhood thing just isn't fitting me the way it should and that I'm just scarring my children in the process.
And now we are bringing a third into the picture?!
What's wrong with me? Why doesn't motherhood just glide along seamlessly enough?
I look at other blogs and other moms and they seem so much more together then myself. Something tells me they aren't feeling at wits end because they can't get their kids to eat dinner, the dinner that they made to their exact specifications. Or fighting with their 2 year old to get them to stay in bed at night.
I hate that I feel like a horrible mom because I am jealous, yes I admitted it, I am jealous that my husband gets to go away and I can't shower without an audience. I know I'm blessed to have such wonderful kids but I just need a break. And it seems that I just can't get one. Or I don't know how to take one. Or that I feel like I don't deserve one.
I hate that when I share this with my husband he makes me feel just awful for thinking these things. I don't think he realizes how hard it can be sometimes. Or at least how hard it feels.
Maybe I should be stronger. Perhaps in all harsh truth that is it.
I wouldn't even describe it as overwhelmed or wits end. I don't know what it is. I just feel like I'm a big meanie. That everything is getting to me and I'm not reacting as I should be.
I had to corral the kids at the car service place for close to two hours, they were probably ok but I just wanted them to sit still, and I still have issues with my damn car's inspection so that still needs to be dealt with which means dragging them back; dinner was a nightmare, I had to yell to get them into the bath, then out of the bath, then wrangle them into jammies, and bedtime made dinnertime look like fun. Oh and the mouse. It is indeed dead. But its stuck in the wall. Behind the dishwasher so my kitchen has a funk to it.
And now I have a headache from not just from my headcold but I'll be honest I've been crying. And my dinner burnt while I was sobbing.
And again, we're having a third?! What's wrong with me. Screwing up the first two wasn't enough I had to go for the hat trick?
Brutal honesty is just that. Brutal.
There isn't any way to paint it up to look pretty. I wish there was maybe it would make me feel better.
I want to be a great mom and I think sometimes I'm a pretty good darn one but sometimes I just feel like this. That I'm failing miserably.