This stay-at-home-mom thing is getting harder.
There have been some mornings when I wake up and my first thought is, "Great. Another day. Which was the same as yesterday. And the day before."
I don't lead a very exciting life - at least not the excitement I want. At most, excitement means consoling one of the boys because he was poked in the eye/jumped on/hit/bumped/etc. or watching the boys' amusement in the new. The former is exhausting because it happens too often. The latter is delightful because it doesn't happen enough. Sometimes I think the boys don't like leading hum-drum lives, either.
While I'd rather be traveling, hiking, or seeing the country, I'm actually sewing fitted sheets from flat sheets, cooking, or doing laundry.
And it's depressing when I realize that I've been going this for almost six years now.
I have to believe that there's more to my life. It's the only thing that keeps me sane some days.
This can't be as good as it gets, right?
I don't buy into society's mantra that parenthood is worth it. Most days it is utterly exhausting. I don't believe that I'll ever wish that my boys were this small again. There are some people who make this look so easy. I've been told I'm one of them. Is that true? Do I make parenthood look easy?
Because it isn't. It's hard.
But yet I persist. I have to. I have to be selfless. For now. One day I will be able to be selfish again. One day I will be able to spend my days in silence except for the tapping of the keyboard or the hum of my sewing machine.
Until then, I am in charge of two wonderful, sweet boys.
Blessed be.
There have been some mornings when I wake up and my first thought is, "Great. Another day. Which was the same as yesterday. And the day before."
I don't lead a very exciting life - at least not the excitement I want. At most, excitement means consoling one of the boys because he was poked in the eye/jumped on/hit/bumped/etc. or watching the boys' amusement in the new. The former is exhausting because it happens too often. The latter is delightful because it doesn't happen enough. Sometimes I think the boys don't like leading hum-drum lives, either.
While I'd rather be traveling, hiking, or seeing the country, I'm actually sewing fitted sheets from flat sheets, cooking, or doing laundry.
And it's depressing when I realize that I've been going this for almost six years now.
I have to believe that there's more to my life. It's the only thing that keeps me sane some days.
This can't be as good as it gets, right?
I don't buy into society's mantra that parenthood is worth it. Most days it is utterly exhausting. I don't believe that I'll ever wish that my boys were this small again. There are some people who make this look so easy. I've been told I'm one of them. Is that true? Do I make parenthood look easy?
Because it isn't. It's hard.
But yet I persist. I have to. I have to be selfless. For now. One day I will be able to be selfish again. One day I will be able to spend my days in silence except for the tapping of the keyboard or the hum of my sewing machine.
Until then, I am in charge of two wonderful, sweet boys.
Blessed be.
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