Bear with me today while I whine about feeling like the worst mother on the planet. Well, maybe not the worst… I don’t beat my children or lock them in closets (although that is sounding appealing at the moment) and they’re well fed, Lord knows.
But it’s been an insane week for me work-wise. I really feel like I’m a mere two steps away from the edge of a cliff called Sanity right now. I have two clients screaming at me (simultaneously) about work that isn’t being done fast enough… and it’s all I can do to keep my professional wits about me enough not to scream right back that I’m doing the best I can, DAMN IT! (I think I’d actually feel much better if I could scream that, but so far, I’ve resisted… probably a good thing).
And with the ten tons of ice and snow that have been falling on my mountain this week, my kids have been home from school every day, of course. So, while my clients are screaming at me, my children are also screaming and whining and demanding… and demanding some more.
Every time I have to tell Avery, “no, I can’t play Scrabble, Jr. with you right now” or “no, you can’t play computer games on Mommy’s computer right now” or “no, I can’t take a break from work to play right now,” I feel another piece of the mommy-guilt pie fall into place. I actually snapped at the child a little bit ago because she dared to ask me to help her open a package of bologna. Bologna. And I snapped at her. What kind of mother yells at her kid because she wants a slice of bologna?? Not a very good one, I’m sure.
Then, as I was grumbling and opening the bologna, and listening to Avery whine because she’s not allowed to play computer games on my computer, I snapped at her that she really needs to find SOMETHING to entertain herself with this afternoon. Bad, bad Mommy.
I keep promising my kids that “later” I’ll be able to play games and spend quality time with them… later, when I’m halfway caught up with work and can think straight. After a week of those types of promises, I’m wondering if “later” will ever get here. I’m sure they’re rolling their eyes and wondering the same thing.
Being a mom is hard. Being a working mom is harder. And I’m fully convinced that being a work-at-home mom is the hardest. I hope and pray that Damon and Avery won’t end up in therapy ten years from now because their mother had to work. For the past 8 years, I’ve felt blessed that I have the opportunity to work from home and still be here to see my kids take their first steps, to comfort them when they’re not feeling well, and to just BE here for/with them. But today, I don’t feel like I’m succeeding in being here “with” and/or “for” them… today, I feel like a really rotten mom. (And now I’m only one step away from the edge of that cliff…)