for maybe only the second or third time since summer began, the sun is shining and it’s shaping up to be what we can only hope is a beautiful day.
dylan is spread eagle beside me, sleeping off her morning talk session, and the cats are passed out at the end of the bed. the house is quiet, save the netflix i need as background noise, the traffic, and a screeching bird that calls every now and again.
it all looks so picture perfect.
so why am i so sad?
even though i love this little kiddo, motherhood has brought with it a whole new batch of insecurities relating to every aspect of my life. i look at my home, something i once took great pride in, and i’m depressed by my inability to keep it clean, organized, even set up in a way that makes me happy. my old space was perfect, cosy, my sanctuary.
i see other mother’s in real life and online who seem as though they have it all together. even those mom’s who blog about how they wish they had it together but don’t have it more together than i do – they’re finding the time to blog regularly about not having it together. i can’t even find the time to shower. make breakfast. finish a coffee.
i put pressure on myself (and in that i know i’m not alone) to be a “perfect” mom, though i know there is no such thing. “good enough” they say, strive for that. but what does “good enough” look like? waking up? getting out of bed? spending ever waking moment catering to her needs? neglecting to take care of my own?
i really admire those instagram mom’s who take daily selfies and work out and eat well and create things with their own two hands. i don’t even make dinner. their marriages seem flawless, husbands who pick up babies and pose for family pictures. if i see the boy for an hour a day i consider myself lucky. we’ve become more like roommates than partners, and it has nothing to do with dylan and everything to do with life, as we knew it, becoming forever altered by the challenges of parenthood. our roles have shifted, changed. our goal posts have been moved and we’re struggling to keep up with these new demands.
sometimes i feel the weight of it all is crushing me. i’m not sure how i’m going to drag myself out of this dark hole i’ve fallen into. or how i’m going to paint the kitchen wall. or afford a new book shelf to reorganize our living room. or even find time to clean the litter boxes. overwhelmed is an understatement today.
yet, the birds outside keep singing.