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Thursday, November 22, 2012

Failures as Mom

Lately I have struggled, awkwardly, through answering the questions “what do you do during the day?” or “what does a typical day look like for you?”. First off, I find it such a strange and rather personal question but in the last month I have been asked it several times. As of late it has especially been difficult to answer because I am not particularly pleased with the answer. Because if I answer honestly it feels like I am giving rights for judgement to be passed on me. I feel like the true question is “what kind of mother are you?”

The thing is that I know that is not what they really mean, but while my brain racks to think of what to confess to, I don’t admit to how often my son watches movies because I am afraid of how poorly that will reflect my parenting, or how messy my house is more often than not.

What is the right answer? I know I have this ideal of the type of mother I ought to be, which might be as extreme as a 50’s housewife. Nonetheless, I live with a sort of guilt that I am not able to do it all, that sometimes instead of cleaning the house I take a nap or spend too much time on Pinterest.

Most of all I regret how very often I say “no” or “not right now”or “maybe tomorrow”. The days are too short, time slips by too quickly; me, floundering to grab hold but never being able to get a firm grip.

What I am deciding in all of this, is to choose to be glad that I am not content with my life as it is. I want to always strive to do better, to be aware of the things in my life that need to go or that I could learn to do differently. While I may be at a place, currently, where I can see a lot of things that need to be thrown out or changed about my everyday life, I choose to let go of the guilt. It holds me back, making it more and more difficult to invoke positive changes.

I guess this post is for me more than anything. Thanks for bearing with me on this, even if its scattered and incomplete.

And wrapping up so I can get off my bum and tackle this messy house.


Yours Truly,
Kara