Why is this the hardest job in the world? Why does being a mom come with the intense feeling of failure when you really honestly try to do the very best you can with what you’ve got? Why do we constantly compare ourselves to others so much that our children pick up on it?
I know. I ate a whole box of “why me?” this morning and there is just no room for that in my life. But I just spent the last 30 minutes bawling my eyes out and feeling like the absolute worst mother in the world. Part of me wants to tell you about what my eight-year-old and I are going through—but then part of me says to stop. To shut up. Let this just ride the course and don’t put my issues out there for the world with an 8-year-old who might find it one day. Y’all this kid is honestly so incredibly amazing. He’s so friendly, so much empathy, so loving and so SO SO smart. I know that my continuously telling other adults that there is no way he is our kid since he is so smart has to stop too.
That kid IS smart. And you BET I made him.
So then why do I feel so ignorant sometimes? Like this morning. My loving 8-year-old ran out the door to the bus only to turn back and yell “Love you Mom!” as he headed out to the bus. I can’t tell you the last time I got that from him…so to hear it as he ran out? My heart melted.
And then I blew it
Not more than 30 seconds later he comes running back in and in tears as if he just saw a ghost. I finally got him to calm down to tell me what was wrong and he goes on to tell me that he missed Chorus this morning. You see, he ran to the bus and all the other kids in his grade were gone. They were at school doing Chorus which is what the third graders do. And as a theater major myself—I was so thrilled when he told me he wanted to be in it. Granted, his reasoning is to sing at a Temple and Phillies game—but this little athlete was doing something that I had hoped for and I was the jerk who failed him. I forgot it was Wednesday.
Oh no. Don’t tell me to not be so hard on myself – because let me tell you more. My three-year-old goes to pre-school and every Friday is Show and Tell. Guess who has forgotten EVERY DAMN FRIDAY since they started it? You know what that says about me? Sh*tty Mom. I mean is my brain a vegetable that I can’t remember important events for my own kids? So brutal. So so brutal.
I feel like the worst mom in the world
I don’t know. But I sure could use some of your real-life organization suggestions this morning on how I can get my kids schedule on par and I stop dropping the balls on important events. And above all…stop feeling like a fool for doing it. I ended up talking him out of the tears and we got in the car headed to school. We talked a bit in the car. I told him that I was really working hard on my organization skills and that is something I need a lot of help with. He said that we were an unorganized family. I told him he was 100% correct. He smiled. I asked him if he could help me with a couple of things and as we pulled into the drop off he said he was sorry for making me feel bad. Again, I started to cry. I put the car in park and turned around to tell him that he did nothing wrong. It was 100% on me and I was going to fix it. I continued to tell him that I am a work in progress and sometimes I take on more than I can handle and if I don’t write everything down – I have a horrible time remembering things and it really lets people down that way. He smiled at me again. I told him I was picking him up early today and we were going to get his new glasses and celebrate how smart he is. (He had to get glasses last week and he’s super excited to wear them. That’s a great sign for sure.)
Now I have to make sure I don’t forget to get him early.
I won’t.
It’s so on my mind today that there is not even a phone call from the President that will stall me from making up with my sweet boy.
Wow. I feel better. Writing is so much better than therapy.
What do you do to feel good about your motherhood #RealMomProblems?
Thanks for being a friend, friends. Means the world to know we aren’t alone in this thing called Motherhood.
