You won't find this on the crafty mama blogs. This is not about my latest embroidery project, or picking organic berries, or doing papier mache.
It's the guilty admissions of when I'm a horrible parent, a terrible mama, and want to just throw up my hands and give up on the whole thing.
Like, how Addie somehow made it all the way to kindergarten today, wearing a dress, with no underwear on, and we got an email from her teacher. That wicked pit in my stomach: because I was too hasty getting out of the house this morning, my kid might have gotten teased or something at school. Geez.
Or, following a dinner party conversation a few nights ago, I thought it would be a brilliant idea to try to have both girls sleep in the same room. EVEN THOUGH Addie is an introvert and really needs her quiet time and alone space and EVEN THOUGH Nolie cannot sleep with other people yet and gets too excited and can't stop shaking all over when she's not in her own room at night. But I wouldn't give up! I yelled and threatened and cajoled both of them to JUST PLEASE FREAKING GO TO SLEEP NOW last night before finally squeezing back the tears and having Eric drag Nolie's bed back to her room. Eric shaking his head at my insanity.
Or, how I've had rough words with Eric lately in front of the girls.
Or, how I sometimes struggle to find even a little kind word, and my kids are so little, and innocent, and precious, and I wonder what in the world hardened my icy heart so that I can't see them, how important and dear and wonderful they are, and instead get mean and small.
And then wonder why they are mean and small to each other.
And then wonder what I would do if there were a few more hours in the day so that I didn't feel quite so stretched and could be a better mama and a happier person and not quite so cranky.
Now. How to make that happen?