I love being a mom. When Deven was born, I felt like I had found my calling, the thing I was born to do. Okay, so I hope it’s not the only thing I was born to do, otherwise all of this work I am putting into a college degree is going to be completely wasted. I know I’ve wanted to do it my whole life, and when Deven was a baby, I was felt like I was pretty good at it. It was the only thing in my life I felt sure that I could do.
I especially love babies. I love to nurse them and cuddle them. I love “talking” with them, and making them smile and giggle. I love how my milk makes Archer smell sweet like caramel. I love that wearing my baby boy in a sling or carrier makes him fall right to sleep. Seeing my babies grow and thrive makes me feel like I am doing something right. It doesn’t always work out the exact way that I intend; for example, I had the intentions of strictly breastfeeding both of my boys, and in both cases, needed to supplement with formula. This time especially, I felt horrible for having to do it, but I know that it’s not hurting him in any way, and it’s not going to change my plans of nursing him for a year. I just set these goals that I know are going to be insanely hard to meet, and then I beat myself up when I fail. Even though I know intellectually that I’m not actually failing.
I try to be super woman. I want to keep my house clean, I have to work to help make ends meet, I want to be able to cook all of the meals, I am raising 2 kids, and I am still going to college. I know, that’s a lot. Obviously, because I am only one woman, some things suffer. The house is still gross and dusty and cluttered. I try to pick up every day, and it doesn’t seem to help much. Because I work in the evenings, there are 4 days a week when Vance and Deven don’t get a decent dinner. (Like my husband couldn’t throw on a couple of chicken strips and heat up a can of green beans!)
The worst thing of all to suffer is my ability to be a good mom to my kids. The stress gets to be so much sometimes, and I get angry and yell, and sometimes I can be really rough with the older one. I’ve addressed like a zillion times on this blog how difficult like with a three-year-old around here is. You’re probably really tired of hearing about it. I just hate myself for not feeling like I can handle my own kid.
Of all the things in my life that I am trying to accomplish, the one things that is undoubtedly the most important of them all is what has to give. It’s not enough that I can’t keep my house clean, now I can’t even give my kid what he needs. I have to work or we can’t make our bills, I have to finish college or we stay poor and hopeless forever. I can’t give anything up. I guess I am just not enough woman to do everything as well as I wanted.