My kid is refusing to nap today. She’s a bundle of happy, babbling energy, but I’m tired. And I’m getting angry. I hate that I’m getting angry. But I am. I can admit to that. I’m sitting in her dark nursery listening to the whoosh of the sound machine while she toddles around making a bigger mess of my already messy house.
I realize some people would frown on my frustration (which is just another word for anger, by the way). But I think it’s a normal reaction. The key things is that I’m not acting on my emotion. However, admitting to it helps me process those feelings. Personally, I think it’s unhealthy to pretend everything is rainbows and buttercups all the time. Those people, my friends, kick dogs behind closed doors. Or they’re cutters. I also believe it’s important for me to show Cecilia that I feel frustration and I don’t behave destructively because of it.
Unless completely doped up on Zanax, all parents experience this. However, it’s a real occupational hazard for stay-at-home moms. After all, if my boss spends all day screaming at me, my only alternative is to grit my teeth and bear it or let her suck on my boob. Plus, I don’t get to leave it and go home. She’s always around. Then I get to experience mom’s guilty. Of course, working moms have mom’s guilty too. Theirs might be for leaving their child with a daycare provider, but mine (and other stay-at-home-moms) feel it when we get angry and worry that we’re inadequate mothers. Basically, I think women spend motherhood wavering between unconditional love and horrible guilt, and the two play off of one another.
I’m not sure where I’m going with this post. I guess I’m trying to say that I feel anger sometimes, and I feel guilty for it too. But it’s okay to feel that way. You’ll always be inadequate in your mind because no one has the time or energy to be the ideal mother (or father). Let’s all grab a beer or glass of wine and relax.
By the way, I feel better now. Thanks for listening.
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