Not One of Those Days

Today I’m feeling like “a not so good Mom”.  I could blame it on hormones, I could blame it on the heat outside (southern California is burning up),  I could even blame it on fifth grade. The reality is that I often struggle with thoughts of inadequacy and failure.  The fear of failing as a mother hunts me day and night. The fact that I’m responsible for two little creatures that drive me insanely crazy is a scary thought.  Something I say or don’t say  could mess them up for ever.  Not only am I responsible for my health, I’m responsible for theirs.  Their doing well in school depends on me and if a behaviour issue comes up I feel like is a reflexion of something I did or didn’t do.  My mom told me when I got pregnant with my first child, that motherhood was the most beautiful thing a woman could experience. What she failed to tell me was that it is also the most challenging thing EVER. That there would be days when I would want to drop the towel and run away.  Days when I would have to build them up even when I’m crawling in my despair.  That motherhood is all about delayed gratification.

My days are 5-hour days. From 8am to 2pm I must do everything I need to do.  Go to the market, the dry cleaner, squeeze an hour work out, come home to make beds, pick up the kitchen to wipe away the evidence of the morning madness, try to take a shower, do a load of laundry and try to fold some laundry, prep dinner and leave the house by 2pm to find parking and get my kids.  After that, “my time” is no more.  Homework, arguing children, extra curricular activities (tennis in our case), dinner, showers all before their bed time, because they need to get their rest and I need to clean the kitchen so the next morning it could be the witness of madness one more time.

My lovely therapist, which I can’t wait to see on Friday, told me to enjoy my kids to the fullest because one day soon they will no longer need me as much. To what I replied; WHEN? I know I must enjoy and I get it, it’s just so hard to do when you are tired and overwhelmed and trying to figure yourself out in the process. There are great days where I can see their little faces and be mesmerized by their beauty and melt at their touch and smile at everything they say. But today is not one of those days.  And the hardest part?  I still have to show them love and respect and be present.  Today I went to the market and forgot to buy the milk, but thank God I remembered to buy the wine 🙂

til next time,

Cynthia

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5 thoughts on “Not One of Those Days

  1. Sydney Fong says:

    Hey, I owe you many likes, I’ll return you in time to come, but dun bill me! – AddGrainOnEarth

  2. Judy Foster says:

    Love it Cynthia. Hang in there. You are a great mom. Make sure to have a glass of vino for me. Besos to you and your gorgeous family.

    • Cynthia Matos-Medina says:

      Thanks Judy,
      I’ll be happy to have a glass for you 😉 Thank you for reading my post.
      Besos

  3. Cynthia Matos-Medina says:

    Rita,
    Thank you so much for commenting on my post. You are absolutely right. My mom didnt have to drive to places because I would walk by myself. I was out of the house until 6 or 7pm playing and my mom had no idea where I was. Different times, different worries. Now, you have to keep your eyes on your kids, you have to not only sign their homework, you also have to do it with them. It’s crazy and some how we must enjoy it.
    We must share and help each other.
    Love ya!

  4. Rita says:

    Thanks for summing up my life. Your mother said to enjoy your kids, because our mothers weren’t crazy like we are today. They picked us up from school after work, whenever that was and we waited. Waited without calling them on our cellphones seven times. We played outside until mom made dinner (that was our exercise for the day). Then helped her clean the kitchen. We set our own alarms. And if Rick Dees didn’t wake us, we overslept. At 15, we took the bus to and from school. And warmed up, without a microwave, any leftovers. Or watched TV and ate cereal. My mother never knew what my homework was, and I always knew what it was without an Agenda or a teachers website page. And that was all OK. We turned out pretty darn awesome and independent. So don’t stress, mama. Its bad for that gorgeous skin of yours. And keep the wine flowing.

    Love the blog.

    Rita

    Sent from my iPhone

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