It was one of those days when nothing seemed to go right.
My 18-month-old was up every hour the night before and the second he fell asleep my three-year-old came in the room because she had a bad dream. That meant transferring my 18-month-old back to his room to make room for her. Of course it didn’t matter at all to them that they didn’t sleep well that night because they were up at the crack of dawn just as they usually are.
I’m used to the lack of sleep by now — sleep deprivation is just par for the course when you have kids, after all. I get through most days just fine, going through the motions like a zombie (or mombie as some like to call it). But every motion I tried to go through that day, one (or more) of the kids would push back against it. The cereal I fixed didn’t have enough milk in it, I picked out a dress for the girls that didn’t have enough pink in it, and despite not getting enough sleep the night before, my youngest refused to go down for a nap.
As a mom of three kids who works from home, it’s easy for me to get overwhelmed. But this day I felt like I was up to my neck in stress and anxiety from dealing with it all.
I tried my best to improve our day by keeping my head up and staying positive, but nothing worked. By the end of the day I was done both physically and mentally. When my husband got home, I went upstairs and sat in my room and cried. Full-on sobbing. I let out all of my feelings of frustration, of being overwhelmed, of inadequacy over not being able to fix anything that went wrong that day. I probably cried up in my room for 15 minutes. And once I was done, I felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of my shoulders.
After three kids, I’ve realized that I should give myself a pat on the back every now and then. I’m finally at a place where I’m confident in my decisions and skills as a mother. But at the same time, that doesn’t mean that I don’t get down on it all. It’s hard; the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And some days are so much more difficult than others.
I’m so busy trying to do it all, trying to make everyone happy, that I’m ignoring these emotions that come day-to-day. Those emotions finally built up big enough that I just had to let it all out. And it felt good.
Crying in my room doesn’t make me less of a mom, it just shows that I’m a real mom. A mom that tries her best to do what’s right for her kids, but makes mistakes along the way and gets overwhelmed at times. I love my kids, but they don’t make life easy. And it’s because of that I need to step away sometimes and cry — and that’s okay.