Oh where oh where can it be?
Not only have I lost my ability to finish a complete thought if an ant hiccups in the vicinity, to remember what I’m looking for when I’ve opened a cabinet or the fridge or the front door, to pee fewer than 50 times in 24 hours, to actually write this whole sentence in less than 10 minutes because I’ve been easily distracted by Facebook, a Pledge commercial and a bathroom break; but I’ve also apparently lost my mommy confidence.
Sure, I’ve gone through peanut’s first two years at times confused, flummoxed, baffled, stumped, frustrated, irritated, and occasionally just plain pissed, but through it all, I’ve felt the underlying pulse of “I know my child” mommy confidence that got me through any given tantrum, sticky situation or emotional reaction (mommy’s not baby’s). Being pregnant, however, has somehow blocked the confidence pulse and left me with moments of “will I ever be good enough?”
A lot of it was the exhaustion in the beginning of this pregnancy just didn’t leave me a lot of mental reserves for dealing with peanut’s new no-napping, boundary-testing behavior. Now that some energy has returned, I feel mostly on my game. Until I just don’t.
Today was just a tired day, all day. I knew as soon as my feet hit the floor (on the way to the bathroom despite my two middle of the night trips) that I just wasn’t in it to win it. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I colored, no matter how many fun voices I did while reading the stories, no matter how well I pretended to eat the pretend sandwich and pretend milk peanut made for me, I was busy thinking how my heart just wasn’t in it. And that made me feel pretty crappy. Not to mention feeling less than because I was finally doing the breakfast dishes at 4:30.
I know not every day is perfect. Not every day is even a quarter perfect, honestly. But knowing I’ll be responsible for two of these little creatures and their growth into well-adjusted, polite, intelligent, creative, contributing members of this planet feels like a lot of pressure some days. Maybe it’s the hormones. Maybe it’s overreacting because I’m sleep-deprived and in need of another pee break. Maybe it’s a weird sort of nesting and instead of organizing cabinets and folding onesies, I’m mentally sorting my short comings.
Luckily, today is just a day. And I know that even when I feel like I’m not giving 100 percent, peanut is still cared for, loved, snuggled, fed, clean — we are our own worst critics, right? So I think I’ll eat a little mint chocolate chip ice cream, fluff the pillows and remember to give myself a break.
Now if only my bladder would cooperate.