As a mother it consumes my whole being at all times. It eats my core and slowly rots me into a puddle of uncertainty. It doesn't matter what I do, the grass always seems greener on the other side and I wonder if I should gather my herd and cross over. I constantly battle between being a mother a wife, housekeeper, daycare provider and still finding me. I feel guilty that I am not there enough, I feel guilty that I am there too much. I feel guilty when I try to catch up on the ever growing to do list. I feel guilty that my house is not as well decorated or organized as others. I feel guilty that I can't be there for all their school events and take them to dance or swimming. I feel guilty if I take that time as it puts out the other families in my care. I feel guilty that my heart sinks a little every time they insist on coming with me to get groceries because that means I don't get that 45 minutes to myself. Some time to lose myself in my own thoughts and get lost in the frozen food aisle. I feel guilty that my children share me, their house, their toys everyday with other children that almost become like step children in our home. I feel guilty at the thought of working outside of the home and sending them to daycare. Don't even get me started on the guilt as a daycare provider. I feel guilty that I don't give them enough then feel guilty when they act selfish. I feel guilty when I wish the years away and quickly mourn the years already lost. It never ends. An infinite circle of guilt. Social media, Pinterest and the likes have made this guilt thicker. A thick fog that makes it hard to breath.
I am not perfect. None of us are. We all do what is best for us. We all do what we need to so we can get through the day. My kids don't always eat enough vegetables. I send processed foods in their lunches. They don't always brush their teeth before bed and I let them watch too much tv/ipad. I yell more than I am proud of. I swear in front of them and they are familiar with wine. My house is messy and I am not nearly as organized as I was years ago. I forget birthdays and I never remember to send cards. But at the end of the day they are loved, cared for and happy. I open a bottle of wine, put my feet up and know that I did the best I could that day.
