I stood there at the kitchen sink ready to scream.
My five-year-old son refused anything I suggested.
“Argh!!!!,” he cried as he flung himself down on the couch.
And me, oh I would do anything to get the screaming to stop.
You come home to dishes piled on the counter, your child’s clothes hamper overflowing with dirty clothes and the dog staring at you. telepathically trying to tell you she’s hungry.
No one else in your family seems to see it.
Your kids happily walk in after school, throw their stuff on the floor and think that the magical cleaning fairy somehow cleans it up.
Why can’t anyone in your family take the initiative to clean up but you?
I get that. I’ve felt that.
It’s not like you haven’t tried either. You’ve tried the pretty chore charts. You even offered to pay them!
But, nothing’s worked.
You may have been making the same mistake I was…
You’re sitting on your couch, playing on your smartphone and you just want to be left alone.
There might be a small amount of guilt lurking under the surface. But not much.
Your kids ask, “Can you play this game with me?”
Nope, not right now, you reply.
You’re burned out. Every bit of energy and motivation has left your body. It disintegrated with that last tantrum or vaporized after your tween daughter gave her characteristic shrug when you asked how her day was.
You’re done and frankly, don’t really see a point in this whole parenting thing anymore.
I see you. I’ve been there.
Often, I feel guilty about taking a girl’s night because of time away from my kids.
I’m afraid I’ll miss something important or even worse, my husband will resent me for taking this time for myself.
They’re baseless fears.
Taking time alone is essential to being a happy mom.
I slam my foot against the kitchen cabinet.
“Just stop it!” I yell, “Stop the fighting!”
My kids go quiet and stand frozen in the kitchen.
“I’m sorry Mama,” my five-year-old son tells me and immediately… I feel bad.
They’re just kids, they don’t deserve an angry mom.
And yet, I’m literally going out of my mind. I’m so exhausted and feel like I don’t even have the space to sort through my own thoughts.
Is this what motherhood is supposed to be like?
Nope. But, I’m making one critical mistake.