Mom-Guilt

Tonight, I fed my kids frozen burritos, and cried because of it.

I fed them frozen burritos as I emptied the sink and loaded the dishwasher, and sorted the second load of laundry between two floors of various put-away placements, while pulling kids off of tabletops and out of windowsills, and fixing the curtain that they ripped down in the back of the house, and while sweeping the dining room floor again by hand on my knees…
I fed them frozen burritos as I walked throughout the house closing blinds turning on lights, and breaking up fights, and picking up toys & rubbish to put away and throw away along my way…
I did this as I sorted bills for check writing when it’s closer to bedtime, while now unloading the dishwasher, and stopping everything to change my 2yr old who has been suffering diarrhea lately.
I fed them frozen burritos, and attempted to throw myself a meal replacement shake together so that I’d have something to eat before the end of the day, but they refused the burritos and, instead, they drank my shake.

I didn’t cry because I judge so poorly the instant food (it’s in my freezer after all), it wasn’t because the kids picked at them and then left them in a pile of worse mess for me to clean (including the clothes they were wearing) or because they drank the protein shake I’d made for myself.

I cried because I had a memory creep up on me…
A memory of my life before babies. I remembered the food I used to make, the effort I’d put in to every little thing. I remembered, and was forced by perspective to wonder “what has happened to me?”.
To confront that THIS was the mom I’ve become. A mom who washed her hair for the first time in a week, couldn’t leave the house for lack of showering, and serves her kids frozen food.
This hurt. For some reason, unbeknownst even to me. I stumbled into this source of shame, this new brand of mom-guilt.
Like, anyone is judging but me, like anyone saw me before or can see the comparison like I do. Nonetheless, it still hit me and it hurt when it did.

But, don’t worry, my 4yr old pissed ALL OVER the bathroom floor before the night was done (and attempted to clean it with a single piece of toilet paper).

Allll. Over.
*apparently, he ran in there pants down, hose engaged. *sigh*

Happy Sunday.

Parenting at my age

2020•02•03
It was one of those days with my children that left me laying in bed, crying at night. Feeling like an absolute failure, just because it was so exhausting. Just because it took so much out of me.
I felt empty and incapable.
It was only a few errands and a walk in the park, why was that so damaging and overwhelming? I’m just too old.
Meanwhile, I’m seeing my friends back home get together (what looks like once a week now) to have lunch, watch the game, or just generally find things to celebrate. I shouldn’t be watching, I know. I know how much it hurts me, but otherwise, what do I have of human observation? It’s not even contact. Just observation.
My life is like a reverse zoo. I’m in the cage, watching all the other humans live their lives outside in the open, but instead of a window I have but a digital screen. I feel exactly like that orangutan that we saw separated from her babies... helplessly watching them from inside the cage. Hopelessly giving up, giving in.

Except, I’m watching my peer group regain their freedom, pick their lives back up, with time and youth and energy to spare, they’re getting “back out there!”. But not me. I have a 2yr old. My life will be wasted away, and so will my peers, by the time my children come of age.

Caged. Chained to diapers in my 40s. Waiting, helplessly watching myself age.

Mom-Life in Reality

“Eat something” he always tells me…

Well, I woke to having my hair pulled, to immediately changing diapers upon sitting up in bed, I fed the boys, gave them water, and put on the TV so I can make myself some toast.

But, now both boys whining and crawling up my leg… for what?! What could they possibly need now?!?… The youngest crying and wanting to be held, because I won’t hold his hand while he yanks me all over the house, and the toddler eating my &@%^! toast while I type this! 😠😣😤

•This is the first hour of the day•

*I hear Mother’s Day is coming up. Since my husband is blissfully unaware that any woman on this planet is a mother, other than his own, I can’t imagine I’ll notice the day come or go. I’ve tried not even bringing it up, though I briefly mentioned a few days back that his annual mother’s day call to his mom should be a video chat in order to show her the kids, and I saw him full-body cringe. It was the kind of cringe that told me, that despite the oversaturation of advertising at every moment, that he has either been actively ignoring (his go-to coping mechanism), he forgot, or was hoping I forgot. I will now.

With my children still babies and my lazy, careless spouse, I never have high hopes for mother’s day anyway.

But, stay tuned, maybe he’ll shock us all!

**Want to Follow Me?

Twitter: @kalanilei

Instagram: @kalani.rene