With each day that passes since my last blog entry, I feel less and less inclined to post. I think about scrapping this all together and starting new so no one can see how few and far between they are. I'm terrified of coming off as a failure, a lazy mom or an unmotivated writer. I compare myself to other moms who seem to be able to make their children incredibly nutritious meals, create crafting projects, work an eight hour day, have a fantastic meal prepared for dinner and who get their hair done every six weeks (I'm especially jealous of that last one). I see myself, with my rushed mornings, my basic lunches, hectic days and burned out evenings spent on social networks and fall into despair. I know I'm not supposed to look at myself in contrast to other people, but god damnit it gets frustrating when I feel like I'm surrounded by women who seem to have it together. Everyday that I don't blog is just another excuse to get upset with myself and another way in which I feel as I have failed as a mother.
So, I'm biting the bullet and writing, despite how silly and exposing it feels.
And I sit at the computer with my mind completely blank and unable to figure out what to write about. Then, I look at this amazing picture my brother took of Darla and I in the water. The moment looks so fresh and carefree. We're having the time of our lives. You wouldn't guess that Darla was stomping around in murky water or that I was hot and stressed about whether or not I had put enough sunblock on her. In that moment, I felt that I looked like a frazzled mom. In reality, that seems to have all been in my head. When I think about that moment that she marched into that water fully clothed, I know I was happy and that I looked happy. I didn't look as confused, overwhelmed and exhausted as I thought I did. (But that's not to say that I didn't pass out very early that night from a very confusing, overwhelming and exhausting day. I'm learning to accept that those emotions will be felt almost daily).
I think about what another mom might think when she sees this picture and I bet someone might feel like our lives are full of spontaneous beach visits and calm moments at the beach. I feel comforted that maybe someone out there might look at me and think, "she's got it figured out." I won't bother telling her about the Sh*tsplosion Darla had on our way back to Los Angeles from San Diego. Nor will I mention that she was covered from head to toe in her poo, which she had managed to do in the five minutes it took to get off the freeway. Or that I didn't have any wipes so I had to use clothes I was going to donate to wipe up as much as I could before bringing her into the gas station bathroom for a "trucker's bath." I will keep up the illusion that the day was full of sunshine, laughter and waves.
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| A moment of calm before she wriggled out of my arms. |
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| Pure joy |
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| She reminds me of a cute old woman in this one. |
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| She's about to run off. |
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| She pulled the hat over her face and started walking into walls. |
