No, this isn’t another mom blog tirade on the recent boobirific Time magazine cover. There are plenty of good ones out there, though.
This is a heart-on-my-sleeve post about some thoughts that were going through my head today. I imagine I’m not the only one who feels this way. If I’m not, then I could use some words of encouragement. If I am, then I’d like a prize for “most unique mommy meltdown.”
Here’s a little gem that popped into my head today: What the hell am I doing here?
You see, this question goes both ways. There are days when I admit I feel highly over-qualified for this job. I’m sorry if that offends anyone, but it’s the truth. After spending an hour scraping gooey, matted banana from my baby’s high chair, I feel a little cheated. (True, I had to clean it before, but it wasn’t used that often.)
To the extreme opposite end of the spectrum, there are days when I feel vastly under-qualified, like today. I am not a child psychologist, preschool teacher or dietitian. When my older daughter had the Mother of All Meltdowns #2 (you can read about #1 here), it was the first time I seriously doubted my choice to stay home. I’m not sure who cried more, me or her. I even threatened to throw away her Toy Story 2 DVD (which if you know her, you know it’s a BIG deal). I’m trying to give myself a little credit, though, as my hormones are wonky due to the baby’s self-weaning. (Okay, I’m giving myself a LOT of credit for that. It’s been rough.)
Admittedly, I would probably feel this way had I chosen to continue working outside the home. I would have still asked myself, “Am I Mom Enough?” Whether you’re bringing home the bacon, or frying it in the pan (or both), it’s so hard to know whether or not you’re doing the right thing.
So, do I still think I made the right choice? Yep. After feeling so deprived of time with my darlings, I can’t imagine giving that up again in the near future. (Talk to me in a couple of years.) My daughter still would have had her meltdowns, and I would have had less time to make things right with her. So I’ll just take it day by day, or hour by hour, try to enjoy the bright moments, and stop asking myself that dreaded question. I’m doing the best I can, and that, my friends, should be “enough.”