Waking up
My first post sounded so cranky and negative. I don’t want a cranky blog! But some days I get sucked in to a smothering black hole of motherhood, the likes of which is fraught with despair. Some mothers never see it (lucky them!) I didn’t know it existed, back in the days when I longed for a baby. In my mind everything was going to be cute and sweet and happy! The fact that I can be a moody introvert was of no importance! Because babies are cute!
Except that depression insidiously slithered in to my brand new maternal existence. And it liked to hang around, even pop back in for visits after it was supposed to be long gone. An overwhelmed mother of two, struggling to keep her children happy whilst feeling desolate herself. Perfect candidate for twins, no?
It is a daily struggle for a few of us, I think. Resisting the urge to give in, to climb under the covers and sleep all day, to find a hobbit hole and bunker down. It is so much more difficult to act interested in pokemon characters, to be attentive and affectionate and awake. In general, I’m not a big fan of difficult. But I love my children, and want all of us to be happy together. And I know that every effort I make for my kids is one more step out of the black hole that I really don’t want to be in. And that if one day can be a little better than the last, then I have more hope for the next one.
One of these days I will stop sounding like Eeyore on valium. Most likely. If not, well, Tigger’s incessant jubilant bouncing was rather irritating anyway.
Within my crazed, glassy-eyed exterior there is a smart person struggling to get out.
At least I hope so.
I have four boys, two of whom are twin toddlers that love to beat the holy hell out of each other. Pretty much every waking moment is spent trying to drag them apart, while feeling my brain cells actually melting from their piercing shrieks. Some mothers make craft projects with their children, other mothers arrange playdates. It takes every ounce of my energy to keep them alive until bedtime. But that’s okay! Because there are only 186 days left until preschool! (she said, her voice tinged with hysteria) Then I will get five hours a week to fret over my sub-par mothering skills in silence.
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