I’m good enough, I’m smart enough
Do you ever have those days (weeks, months, whatever) when you just feel like whatever you’ve got going on just isn’t enough? That maybe you’re just not trying hard enough to do whatever it is you should be doing? That this is wrong, and that is wrong, and everything is just wrongwrongwrong?
It might be the PMS speaking here, but today I had a really bad day. In fact, it was just a totally miserable day from start till, well, right now (which is close to day’s end, I can only hope). My kids woke up fighting, the whining continued all the way to school drop-off along with my yelling and threatening to homeschool my daughter (oh my god, what was I even thinking?) and her crying and the preschooler yelling and it just felt like it never relented.
I try hard to make our mornings smooth and happy. How was I to know that today oatmeal sucks? Why did they both wake up so grumpy? Exactly how was I supposed to know (or do anything about) the fact that there’s cheese smooshed into the bottom of her backpack? Why is it always a fight when I tell him that no, he cannot have treats in the morning? Why can’t I even grab a shower before we head out?
I dropped Story off with tears running down her cheeks, and Mason sobbing in the car. I got home and he threw tantrums and toys, and I yelled and cried, too. I had work to do and he was miserable. By the time we picked Story up from school again, I thought things would be better, but by then Mason was overtired, Story was grumpier and when they came home I yelled again for some privacy while I worked. They broke my special measuring tape, they left clothes from one end of the house to the other. They forgot to feed their guinea pigs, they destroyed my piles of laundry. They had bums that needed wiping and snacks that needed preparing and and and. . .
I hated myself for my failures today. I hated that when I was stressed, I ate that birthday cake in the fridge. I hate that I yelled. I called myself a terrible mom, convinced myself I’m not worthy. I berated myself. Will they only remember the days when I lost it? Am I ruining them? I feel terrible. I’ve failed.
But, dammit. I’m a good mom. This was a bad day, but I’m a good mom. Talking to myself this way isn’t going to make tomorrow any better. Is this how I’d want my daughter or son to feel? Is one absolutely shitty day the definition of who we are? I hope not. Our days are usually so happy, so full of fun and laughter and all that good stuff. Not this.
I recently made the decision to stop hating on myself. To stop feeling like the shape of my body defines me, to stop comparing myself to others, to embrace myself wholly. I decided to focus on what I can do right, and how to always improve, and how to reflect to my kids the kind of person I’m proud to be. To forgive myself the mistakes I make when I truly do try my best. This smack-talk has to stop.
So right now I’m gonna pick my ego up off the floor, dust it off and go snuggle my kids as they sleep, and watch a movie. Tomorrow will be a better day because I’m a great person who is going to make it a better day. I will apologize and we will move on. If I was my best friend, I’d expect this much of myself, and I’d tell me so. If my daughter had this kind of day, I’d pick her up and tell her tomorrow will be better. If my Mom knew about my day, she’d tell me I’m a good mom who had a bad day.
Tonight I’m going to treat myself as well as I treat those I love and cut myself some slack.