I had this lovely inspiring motivational post planned in my head Monday, all composed, as I lay there in bed, thinking it all up.
And then I woke up, and Tuesday happened. Tuesday. A Tuesday so gruesome I came up with a new word for it.
Isn't that a GREAT WORD???
And it was my day.
Multiple day tension headache rearing up again. Crabby uncooperative children. Fights. Tears. Dear one I love in the hospital. And a tumbling sinking feeling in the pit of my gut that I have royally ruined my children's lives, forever, that I was unworthy of being their mother, that I truly ought to farm them out to schools and nannies and minimize contact or work abroad because I RUIN EVERYTHING. FOR EVERYONE. PERIOD.
Truly, utterly, SHITASTIC.
And here is what I did.
Drank some of my father's hidden bottle of whiskey for dinner. Went to bed. Woke up the next morning.
I survived Shitastic Tuesday.
And all I got was this damn t-shirt.
So. Balance. Not an inspiring balance post. A real one. A real one about mothers who fuck up and drink whiskey for dinner and go to bed and get up and live to tell another tale.
Because, although we appear to be the backbone of our families, our communities as we go to teacher's meetings and bake sales and dance recitals and Cub Scout Meetings and get up in the middle of the night to puke and coughs and fevers and fight the good fight day in and day out and make dinner and smile when everyone complains about fish sticks and smile when little ones ask us where the baby is in our "fat tummy" and hand over the pinteresting ipad for morning cartoons and eat cardboard pizza because the little man prefers cardboard pizza. All of these things. We do them.
And sometimes. It feels like no one sees. Or worse yet, like the only thing seen is the mistakes. When we snap instead of smile. When we yell instead of hug. When we stay at home for years to tend to little souls and are told "haven't you given up enough of your career to them?"
And then the balance we had maintained, for oh so long, feels like it could crumble, And then, one Shitastic Tuesday, it does. Crumbles everywhere.
Because in reality. We are scared. We are unsure. We plod on some days. We step timidly other days. We run backwards even. And then some days we joyfully skip forward. Conquering all.
Its a mental balance really. This idea that we ought to be only at home with our children if we are perfectly perfect at it all. The kind of mother that has color coordinated chore charts for her children and "busy boxes" for the homeschooled preschooler and regimented quiet times.
And then. In the balance of our minds, we falter. Because we have no busy boxes. Or color coded charts.
But, our flawed selves, in reality, are the best selves to raise the flawed selves of our children.
And that, is where the beauty is. We are flawed. They are flawed. And out of that realization flows a balance. Perfect scheduled lives balancing out spontaneity. Perfection vs. flaws. Clean vs. messy. Routine vs. adventure.
Freaking A. I am SUCH a dichotomous person. Seriously. Ridiculous. Like, I find myself ridiculous. All the time. I want adventure. Like, I want to drive to Mexico. RIGHT NOW. I want, also, a wee little house on a hill. NOW. No, seriously. RIGHT THIS SECOND. I want to follow a schedule, each day. I also want to embrace the spontaneous, "look mom, its a big black bird! Can we follow it?" Uh. Yes, sure! I want to be a full time artist. In a yurt. I also want to sit in on meetings with participants calling in from around the globe. In a suit.
ALL OF IT.
This was my thought underlying the original post. Finding that balance, in people, ehhhh, divergent, like me, is so key to our sanity.
And motherhood too.
We fuck up. We drink whiskey.
We try again.
All of it.
And. No matter how out of balance we fall. We pick ourselves up and find it again. In my case, today, it took an entire Toblerone bar and five hours to myself writing (bless you dada)
But we find it. And we step forward. Confident. Walking the tightrope that is parenthood. And life.
And, making sure the stash of whiskey is always on hand.