Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Waiting For The Shoe To Drop

Sometimes I just want to hide away alone where no one can find me. I love being a mother, but there are times where I really miss and crave my solitude. There are days where I don't understand what made me think becoming a mother was a good idea, or that I'd be any good at it. There are days where I'm frustrated as hell with one daughter, but beside myself with joy with another daughter. God help me on the days where all three of them decide they'd like to see what Mommeigh would be like all crazy-like.

Some of the bad days, I can handle. In fact, there aren't a lot of bad days, and most of the time I CAN handle those days. But then... there are days where no matter how much Paxil there is in the world, no matter how many relaxation techniques there are... I really question my ability to be a good mother.

There could be a really good day, where they've been occupied and in a good mood all day. They've been silly and quiet and playing and singing, they've eaten well and been "mostly good." You think things are perfect, that it's wonderful that children can be like that and being a mother is good. Being a mother is rewarding and having a family is FUN damnit. Yet even if most days are like that, even if 85% of the time we're all happy and happy to be together... there's that 15%. That 15% that you just wait for, so that when it's this good, you feel like you just settled a shoe down next to the floor mat and can't find the other one...

Suddenly, a loud, long, keening wail pierces the relative silence and dogs from 8 doors down start howling and my eyes start to vibrate and my ears start to tingle and buzz. I literally can't hear my own thoughts, but I know what's going through my mind: Oh shit, now it starts, here comes the other shoe. It doesn't just drop, it flies into my head.

Today has been one of those days.

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