Peas and carrots

I know I’ve been really candid about my experience in motherhood. I’ve been honest with you, my blog friends, and let it all hang out. Let you see my insides – all mangled and imperfect.

And you’ve all been so kind and so gracious.

Probably because many of you are just like me.

A mom that feels like a thin piece of thread on the brink of breaking.

A mom that rejoices in our achievements – like getting the kids to bed at a decent hour or having a meal on the table that doesn’t require the use of a microwave or a drive thru.

So, when I talk to you about my failure – my most recent one – the one that dings at my heart every time I replay it – I know you won’t judge me.

Cuz you and me friend…we’s like peas and carrots.

I greatly dislike – because I don’t like the word hate – the fact that I work so much. I greatly dislike the fact that I am away from my kid as much as I am. I greatly dislike the fact that someone is raising her while I am at work. I greatly dislike the fact that I actually like work and am proud of what I’ve accomplished and what I’m building for Iz’s future.

Stupid guilt.

But, work has me torn away from my real job. My most important job in the world and that’s being a mom. I know how INCREDIBLY blessed I am to have Iz cared for by family – aunts that love her almost as much as I do.

But, it’s still not me.

Not me wiping her messy face and pudgy hands after meals.

Or reading the stories, teaching her colors, learning how to count.

It’s not me.

All of the above I’m ok with – sorta.

But, it’s the sad sick face and little body that I miss caring for.

I was in the kitchen – again…. My sister went to my parent’s house to drop off her kid today and checked on Iz for me. After yesterday, I told her I was worried she was getting really sick.

Then I got a call.

It was my sister calling me to ask permission to take her to the doctor.

Iz was worse.

She couldn’t breathe and I was 20 miles away.

She was running a fever, couldn’t breathe, and I wasn’t there to hold her hand, wipe her nose, smooth down her hair and kiss it all better.

That moment…I felt like a failure. A failure as a mom.

Now – I know I couldn’t do anything. I know that kids get sick – especially now that we’re in a Texas winter – you know the 65 degree days followed by a 20 degree day….followed by a heat wave..

But, the fact that it wasn’t me to take care of her at that moment…it felt like failure.

She took Iz to the doctor and I finished up my project and zoomed out the door….to sit in an hour of traffic.

All my rushing was a moot point…since of course I waited and waited and waited while I stood in line at the grocery store to get medicine, her prescription, and get well essentials….

I cried in the car on the way home.

I ran into my house to find the hubs and the kid cuddled up on the couch.

My tear stained toddler, runny nose, puffy eyes, fever of 103…all I wanted to do was to hold her and make her better.

But, she wanted nothing but Daddy and I convinced myself that it was because she no longer recognizes me as a legitimate part of her life.

Ok wow – I am dramatic. I’m going for broke and trying to win an Oscar here.

But really, I felt terrible. I wasn’t there for her when she needed to go to the doctor. And now that I WAS there for her….she wanted nothing to do with me.

My husband tried to take away the boxing gloves I was using to beat myself up. He greatly dislikes when I guilt myself during situations like these. He reminds me that kids get sick, a lot of mom’s have to work outside the home, and that he’s an equal part of her care giving as me – so to quit beating myself into an emotional corner that I can’t get out of.

I know I’m not a failure as a mom. Just sometimes it feels like it.

I don’t know when it gets better. When the guilt goes away.

I know it doesn’t matter if I work from home, stay at home….we as mom’s find a way to guilt our way into our emotional corners. Whether it’s about a sick kid, working away from home, a tantrum…lots of things that are out of our hands.

I just wanted to share my latest failure moment – not to get pats on the back saying I’m a good mom, not to get words of encouragement, but to show you my insides – all crazy and mangled – and to show you that I get it. That motherhood is hard. And the feelings we deal with on a second to second basis are out of control.

I get you.

And you get me.

“We like peas and carrots…”

Comments

  1. I, too, beat myself all the time. and i'm a SAHM. my kids are watched more by spongebob than myself. projects projects projects, always get my full attention, instead of them.
    my friend just did a blog about being present and content in whatever boring, brainless, crazy stage of life you're in.
    Tilly hated me last year when she had RSV and her daddy stayed with her in the hospital (since he understands all the medical lingo). that hurt me to the core as well. so here's my hug to you (((((HUG)))))

  2. oh, girl, do i understand! and with my mom in the final stages of her life, i beat myself up in that arena too. am i doing enough for her? and if i am doing for her, am i neglecting my daughter? why do we have to live 7 hours away? thank you for your honesty… i've enjoyed sharing in your mother, wife, daughter, friend sisterhood! xxoo