Ever have one of those days (weeks or months, really) where you start to feel lost? Where you question everything about the way you are raising your kids. Usually it’s easier for me to push those feelings of insecurity back down with my foot- like packing down the garbage I should have taken out two (three) days ago. Packing it down is just not working right now.
Lately I have been doing a lot of reading about alternative parenting. I have never considered myself a traditional parent by any means but I am starting to feel like I have fallen into that category in the last couple weeks. Sit at the table until your plate is clear. No talking until your coat is on. Don’t talk while I am talking. Seriously? Seriously. What is my problem? Where has the kind-hearted, patient, sensitive Mama gone? My kids want her back. And I do too.
She’s probably buried under that pile of five loads of laundry. Or trying to climb out from the stack of crusty dishes in the sink. She could be digging her way out of permission slips, math games, book orders, dental appointments, grocery shopping, preschool meetings or meal planning. Or she could be smothered by researching “clean” recipes, heathy fats and GMOs or she’s trying desperately to fit working out in because goddammit she has to put on that bathing suit in a month. Oh wait, you have a job too, Mama?
So that’s where Mama went. Come back Mama.
Trying. Wishing desperately that I could find the balance. The thing is my life is so full. But the fullness I focus on are the parts that don’t matter. What will my kids remember? Will they remember laundry piles, dishes, permission slips, book orders, dental schedules or the ridiculous task of creating a meal plan which is “clean” and compatible with the eating habits of a three year-old? Nope. Will they remember what their Mama looked like in her bathing suit? Nope. But will they remember Mama not playing with them? Will they remember being forced to sit at the table alone, in the dark kitchen while everyone else is playing a laughing together? Probably. Definitely.
To let go of all that extra stuff is so hard though. Harder than anyone admits.
I need to remember what’s important. I need to color with Zook. I need to race cars across the floor with Mooch. I need to read Harry Potter with Cub. I need to jump into football playoffs and superheroes and sharks. I need to chase and tickle and cuddle them. The things I need to be buried in, smothered by and consumed with are my children. And I know I can get back there.
Mama is coming back. Mama is back.
Peace, Mamas.
Mama Gets Real 