Life is hard. I’m tired most of the time and I worry about money and the health of my child. My house is messy and my furniture doesn't match. The laundry is strewn all over the floor and I'm not sure which piles, if any, are clean.
I found an apple under my son's bed yesterday. It was so moldy that I almost didn’t recognize what it was.
I struggle to find balance between being a mom and a wife. I’ve lost sight of who I am as a person without those roles taking precedence over any type of self-care that I might think I deserve. I have stopped pulling the gray hairs from my head because I'm worried I might go bald.
I’ve gained weight and struggled with depression and anxiety.
Some nights, I stare at my son as he’s sleeping and go over all the things I did wrong that day. We didn’t play enough. We played too much. I yelled when I was frustrated. I didn’t listen to my son when he tried to tell me a story because I was too lost in Facebook…
On those nights, I vow to to a better job at being a mom. But then I remember how exhausted I am and I just don’t see how I could possibly do any thing more.
No one told me how hard it would be to be a parent.
But even on the hard days, I am grateful. It’s a precious balance between exhaustion and gratitude: I am exhausted because my son is alive. He’s tearing down the curtains to make a snuggly nest. He’s starting fires in the microwave because he wants to “cook” like mommy. He’s taking nose-dives off the swingset into piles of snow because he wants to learn to fly.
He’s curious and learning and happy.
On the days that I lose sight of my purpose as a mother, I remember his belly laughs, his excited stories, and his gentle snuggles.
My resolution is to notice more the way my child looks in awe at the world around him. When I focus on that, motherhood becomes crystal clear: all the hard parts are worth it.