If I'm honest this is more days than I would like to admit... overwhelmed. Mason was so easy as a newborn, he rarely cried other than when he was hungry and I knew exactly what to do when it wasn't hunger crying. I'm still working my way through the list of culprits with Eliza I've been given by *everyone* for fussy babies with no success so far.
I wake up, I feed my crying Eliza from my tired body, I make Mason his beloved eggs and fruit, I clean up I get them dressed all while talking Mason through fits and temper tantrums and bouncing Eliza. Then I catch myself in the mirror... I am neither dressed nor fed and frankly I don't have the brain capacity to put together a decent outfit for myself while the kids pull at my mind and heart strings so jeans and a baggy shirt it is. In that mirror I see all the things I would like to change... stretch marks everywhere, a stomach that looks like a deflated balloon, hips that I've had to accommodate with new wider jeans, sore aching breasts that are struggling to keep up with the demands of a little blue eyed girl, bags under my eyes from lack of good sleep... the list I see goes on... all I see and think of is flaws...
Defeated is the word that normally comes to mind when people ask how its going, but in our society being defeated as a stay at home mom is not acceptable. Or everyone has a million well meaning suggestions that fall on my completely numb mind. Again in the interest of honesty I usually tell people we are fine and find a funny anecdote from earlier in the week that brought a smile to my face.
I feel like I'm drowning, like I'm failing my kids when I cry with them. The few people I've told this to will tell me I'm wrong and encourage me to the best of their ability but there's something in my mind that won't let me fully believe them. I love my kids more than I ever imagined I could... and feeling like I do makes me feel like I'm not being the mother they deserve... asking for help makes me feel like I'm shirking my responsibility as a parent off onto other people. I pray daily for a clearer mind, I pray that I won't cry when they're both crying at me and I don't know what they want. Neither of them can talk, Mason is in a major learning curve that requires constant vigilance and patience and Eliza is still figuring out "the outside".
Eliza doesnt see stretch marks on a sagging stomach, she sees her home of 9 months, Mason sees his favorite place to lay his head to fall asleep, they see hips that carry them, Eliza sees her source of comfort and food in me. Mason doesn't see the bags under my tired eyes as he stares into them and quietly calls me mama as he falls asleep at night.
I know its all worth it and this is just a stage of life that I'm passing through. I have to give myself the same grace I give my children as they learn... "This is the hardest stage of life they've ever been through" I tell myself as I try to be patient with them.
This is not the end of the world, YES it is hard some weeks have more hard days than not, but I have to cherish this age. I can't let my frustrations keep me from seeing the beautiful moments that my kids are going through.
I can't let what I see ruin me because that's not what they see.
