I woke up covered in mosquito bites. After finally getting the kids settled in bed- my three-year-old had to fake poop for a full ten minutes before bed until I finally pried his crying body off of the toilet- I crashed, emotionally speaking. After being a bitch to my husband I went outside and sat on our stoop in the rain. It was black outside and the rain was falling in heavy, pregnant drops. Lightning flashed and I counted, like I did when I was a child: "One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand, four one thousand, five one thousand, six one thousand" until the thunder cracked to see how far away it was. I don't even know if that really works. I didn't feel the mosquitos feasting on me as I sat there in my sweats. The only thing I felt were my clothes getting heavy from the water. In hindsight, it was poetic. I had nothing left to give anyone so the insects took my blood. At least that was one snack I didn't have to prepare. It wasn't a bad day. I took good care of my children. I fed them cereal and fruit. We went to the market. I drove to activities. I took them on a walk down a dusty country road and we even blew bubbles in the park. That was the sweet stuff. The hard part? I broke up more fights than I can remember. I wanted to scream, "Just leave each other the f*ck alone!!!" but instead played the part of referee. I cleaned up too much poop. Even a small amount is too much when you're in a public bathroom scraping it off of pants. I took them to the grocery store and foolishly allowed my three-year-old to use one of those small carts for children that were designed by Satan himself. To him, he wasn't in a grocery store. He was on a race track and those were aisles, they were obstacles that needed ramming. The looks I got. I forgot the bananas my husband takes to work and drove to a fruit stand 15 minutes away because I couldn't bear the thought of going back in after the commotion we'd caused. In the summer it's much easier to parent when you're outside, but one can only spend so many hours at the park. One can only hear about a six-month old boo boo ( a fully healed boo boo) so many times and pretend to care. One can only handle so many tantrums a day. One can only comfort so many teary faces before they feel like an empty tube of toothpaste that someone refuses to throw away, rolling up the ends to force out what's left. Then of course there was dinner time: the ultimate test of parenting. My three-year-old sat in my lap, the only place he eats right now. I'm ashamed to admit that I just stared at the wall and barely spoke. And then it was all over and I was in the rain, just trying to breathe. I don't even think the kids are the hardest part. The hardest part was feeling like it was my fault. It's my fault that they fight, it's my fault that he tantrums and is a lunatic these days, it's my fault that I didn't find a reasonably priced summer camp before the spaces were gone, it's my fault that he won't eat unless his body is flush against mine. It's all my fault that they're a mess at bedtime. It's hard because of me. Other mothers have it worse and are doing it better. "Or," a small voice said to me this morning as I furiously scratched my bites, "Maybe it's just hard." Maybe it's hard to dump love and attention on small people who don't even notice, much less reciprocate. The truth is, I like being around my kids. I like having them home, it just also kills me every day. I know one day they won't all be in my living room forever, they'll be out in the world with their own friends and jobs and I treasure this even though I'm barely getting by. Even though at the end of the day I only have enough energy to sit in the rain with a hoodie covering my hair and my head on my knees. Today needs to get going. I need to pour milk into cereal bowls and find underwear for people. I'm scared of what the day's going to put me through and grateful that I get to go through it all at the same time. Maybe that's what motherhood is. Maybe it's just hard.
jacobvanloon
dailybridgerton
romaincrisis
theartofmadeline
annaxmalina
turnnoffyourmind
stormborns
kaledo-art
