I have a confession. I've struggled with whether or not I want to put it here in the open. I argued with myself about it while on the treadmill the other day, which led me to wondering about who the people behind blogs really are. I mean, we all have our demons, right?
And then on Saturday Bryan & I were at the grocery store without Emma and we were on a bulk bin aisle, where I saw a frustrated mom scolding her daughter (who was about Emma's age) because she was taking food out of the bins and eating it. The mom gave me an embarrassed look and I laughed and told her mine does the same thing every time we're in there. And then we talked about how good it feels when someone says "me too!" in situations like that, because it's nice to know you aren't the only one, and it makes you feel like it's just part of life, rather than you fucking up as a parent.
After that, I decided that I was going to write about it. Here. And not in a word document, or on paper, because someone, somewhere might be feeling the same way too. So, if you're out there, and this resonates with you: me too.
***
I have a habit of putting myself in challenging situations. Like taking on 15 hrs of school while raising a child and maintaining a household. Last semester I did just that, on top of the stress of a deteriorating relationship, and a child who was just finishing up a very long case of the terrible two's (they lasted for two years.)
The issues I was having with Emma (in retrospect) were normal challenges that I'm sure every parent of a free spirited child goes through. We couldn't agree on anything, clothes, shoes, food, etc. Every day we fought, and every day we cried (both of us) until one of us gave in (usually me.) It got to the point where I couldn't even get her ready to leave the house without a giant meltdown, and my mantra "this is only a phase" wasn't doing a damn thing for me.
I called my brother crying on the way home from school one day. I told him about what was going on with Bryan, and complained about Emma, and how I was stressed out, and then I just blurted it out, "I don't think I was meant to be a mom. I'm not doing something right, and I don't want to do this anymore."
I'm just going to repeat that: I said out loud that I didn't want to be a parent anymore. I then proceeded to feel even worse for saying something so awful, but even more so because I felt like a failure.
My brother assured me it was a stage, and that I'm not a bad person, or a bad mom even, but that I probably needed to figure shit out before it gets worse. (I did.)
***
Fast forward 7 months, and Emma has settled down. A little bit. Mostly. We occasionally fight over the same things, but I've learned how to deal with her and I've also learned that I have to pick my battles. You lose some, you win some. I'm ok with that. I like balance.. and she seems to be as well.
I'm just now starting to let go of the guilt that I had for feeling and saying what I did. The thing is, no one gave me that manual everyone talks about. You know, the one that comes out of your vagina after the placenta? It tells you how to be the perfect parent? Answers all the questions you might have along the way? So really I'm winging it because I don't have all of the answers, and I'm not perfect, and (holy shit) sometimes life gets messy.
But you know what? No one does, and I'm so thankful that I realized that beating myself up over it doesn't help or change anything. I'm not the only one, this is part of life, and I'm not a failure.
***
I love Emma to death. Sometimes when I'm apart from her I'll start thinking about her and I'll cry. When she stays the nite with her grandparents I talk about her the whole time she's gone. (The first two hours I'm happy to be free, and then I want her back.)
I love that she sings herself to sleep every nite, and that she's so motherly to her guys. I love her cheeks so much I want to pinch them, and her little Minnie Mouse voice so much that it hurts. I love her because she's me. All me. And I don't want to think about who I would be without her.
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And then on Saturday Bryan & I were at the grocery store without Emma and we were on a bulk bin aisle, where I saw a frustrated mom scolding her daughter (who was about Emma's age) because she was taking food out of the bins and eating it. The mom gave me an embarrassed look and I laughed and told her mine does the same thing every time we're in there. And then we talked about how good it feels when someone says "me too!" in situations like that, because it's nice to know you aren't the only one, and it makes you feel like it's just part of life, rather than you fucking up as a parent.
After that, I decided that I was going to write about it. Here. And not in a word document, or on paper, because someone, somewhere might be feeling the same way too. So, if you're out there, and this resonates with you: me too.
***
I have a habit of putting myself in challenging situations. Like taking on 15 hrs of school while raising a child and maintaining a household. Last semester I did just that, on top of the stress of a deteriorating relationship, and a child who was just finishing up a very long case of the terrible two's (they lasted for two years.)
The issues I was having with Emma (in retrospect) were normal challenges that I'm sure every parent of a free spirited child goes through. We couldn't agree on anything, clothes, shoes, food, etc. Every day we fought, and every day we cried (both of us) until one of us gave in (usually me.) It got to the point where I couldn't even get her ready to leave the house without a giant meltdown, and my mantra "this is only a phase" wasn't doing a damn thing for me.
I called my brother crying on the way home from school one day. I told him about what was going on with Bryan, and complained about Emma, and how I was stressed out, and then I just blurted it out, "I don't think I was meant to be a mom. I'm not doing something right, and I don't want to do this anymore."
I'm just going to repeat that: I said out loud that I didn't want to be a parent anymore. I then proceeded to feel even worse for saying something so awful, but even more so because I felt like a failure.
My brother assured me it was a stage, and that I'm not a bad person, or a bad mom even, but that I probably needed to figure shit out before it gets worse. (I did.)
***
Fast forward 7 months, and Emma has settled down. A little bit. Mostly. We occasionally fight over the same things, but I've learned how to deal with her and I've also learned that I have to pick my battles. You lose some, you win some. I'm ok with that. I like balance.. and she seems to be as well.
I'm just now starting to let go of the guilt that I had for feeling and saying what I did. The thing is, no one gave me that manual everyone talks about. You know, the one that comes out of your vagina after the placenta? It tells you how to be the perfect parent? Answers all the questions you might have along the way? So really I'm winging it because I don't have all of the answers, and I'm not perfect, and (holy shit) sometimes life gets messy.
But you know what? No one does, and I'm so thankful that I realized that beating myself up over it doesn't help or change anything. I'm not the only one, this is part of life, and I'm not a failure.
***
I love Emma to death. Sometimes when I'm apart from her I'll start thinking about her and I'll cry. When she stays the nite with her grandparents I talk about her the whole time she's gone. (The first two hours I'm happy to be free, and then I want her back.)
I love that she sings herself to sleep every nite, and that she's so motherly to her guys. I love her cheeks so much I want to pinch them, and her little Minnie Mouse voice so much that it hurts. I love her because she's me. All me. And I don't want to think about who I would be without her.
