The house is a mess.
Laundry is piled up on the bedroom floor because time ran out to fold the clean laundry from last weekend. I told myself I’d get to it during the week during my spare time.
Mail from the week is stacking on the kitchen counter. I assume the stack includes things like statements showing balances of accounts that are way too adult for me to fully understand. I’m told in the future I’ll be glad I have them. I’ll have to research what they all mean in my spare time.
It’s rained a bit over the past week, so whenever the dog goes out in the backyard, he comes back in leaving wet paw prints all over the floor. I really need to clean the floor. Probably another thing to add to my list of things to do in my spare time.
My attempts to cover the walls of this year-old house with something continue to go nowhere. At this point, I decided on a DIY project involving canvas, paint, and stencils with phrases I should really make my mantra. Mind you, I have never painted a canvas in my life. Trying to not make this DIY project look like a kindergartner art project is on my list of things to do in my spare time.
Meanwhile, my mind is on the hours of work I need to get done on a Sunday so I can try to get ahead for the week and caught up from the week before. My blog post is late for the month, and my husband misses who his wife used to be.
Then the mom guilt comes over my body like nothing I’ve ever felt. Her dad is giving her a PBJ for lunch before she takes a nap and I’m listening to her giggles from a distance because of all the other things I have to do.
I’m a mom. And I’m burnt out.
I tell myself I don’t deserve to be burnt out – I’ve only been at this for a little over a year, but life is moving fast. I’m trying to hold onto every moment I can with my daughter because when I break it down, I’m lucky if I’m with her for TEN hours during the week. Then trying to get everything done on weekends so we can maximize those ten tiny hours is exhausting. I want to squeeze her little cheeks and hold her upside down and hear her giggle nonstop. I don’t want my mind and body to be elsewhere.
I keep telling myself I’m doing the best I can. But it seems like I could be doing better. Millions of women are moms. Somehow, they all figure out how to work, clean, be DIY masters, and keep their kids and husbands happy. I’ll be the first to raise my hand and say I’m fumbling through and merely just surviving.
A part of me wishes more moms would talk about the chaos and burn out. I know it’s better to focus on the positive, but I can’t be the only one who just needs to scream sometimes. Can I?
Being a mom is hard.
But every time I do have a chance to hold her, make her giggle, or have time to simply play for an hour, I know this life is worth it. These moments won’t last long and I have to hold on tight. I won’t be afraid to scream if I need to and cry when it becomes too much. This is mom life for me. Her face reminds me that I wouldn’t have it any other way.
