I spend most days in a disheveled two-day-old top-bun and less-than-fresh yoga pants or leggings, balancing big kid things and baby things. Stuck under a breastfeeding babe, my big boy eagerly calls for me to help him fill his water bottle. I, trying to grasp hold of my sanity by thinning wire, bark orders as a wriggling, overly-tired infant moans angrily in my ear. Then, after the long, strenuous day of yelling and quarreling, trying to piece things together, I look at my sleeping five-year-old and whisper pleas of "Don't hate me for how I've acted today. Tomorrow will be a better day." ...And sometimes they are, but sometimes there are lengthy spans of days spent fighting and yelling and shutting down, wishing I felt pretty or strong or...human.
I could lie and say that being a mother of two is a cake-walk, a rewarding and ever-pleasant cake-walk, but the truth is that it's damn near impossible sometimes. I'm exhausted and grouchy and disgusted with myself on the regular, and not just because I sport a greasy mop, four-day-worn maternity leggings (yes, still), or 20 extra pounds of pregnancy weight (yes, still again), but because I almost never feel like the mother I imagined I would be. Despite the fact that my mom is a wonderful mother and my very best friend, as I entered motherhood, I said the same things all new or expecting mothers say: "I'm going to do things differently than my mom did," or "I will be an ever-kind and gentle mom that does crafts and willingly plays with them 24/7." But, I miss the mark on a regular basis, and I beat myself up and vow to make the following day a better one.
I spend a lot of time dreaming of the future, of owning a house, of being healthier, of being happier, of being well-dressed, and being the mother-of-my-dreams. I live in this place of expectancy, shirking my tasks and responsibilities now while fabricating my "ideal" in the vast spaces of my conscious thoughts.
But the truth is that I waste so much time moping and wishing and dreaming that I let beautiful opportunities pass me by. I need to tap into the place in my mind that allows myself grace, but also realizes the importance of healthy life choices to raise myself and my household up. Instead of getting angry at not being able to control each situation, I need to accept things for what they are; realize their beauty and significance...and move on. It's okay that my home doesn't look like something out of a page from Pinterest, or that my boys aren't always dressed in the highest-priced children's clothing, or that my blueberry pancakes don't look like the photo from the recipe. It's okay that I'm still in my maternity clothes for now, but that doesn't mean I can't strive to do better, to be better. And, really, that's what I'm getting at. We all deserve a little grace, to have those moments of weakness where we put our children in front of the TV for hours (or days), to grouch about our appearance, or about our lives not being magazine-quality. However, willpower is what drives us to take those gross moments where we doubt ourselves and the jobs we are doing and reverse it and improve.
I want to be a better mother, so...I need to get off my phone, spend more time playing, less time yelling.
I want to love my home, so...I need to quit comparing it to the homes of others.
I want to love my body and the way I look, so...I need to quit ordering pizza three times a week and start moving.
I want to be a better wife, so...I need to love myself and my life so that my words and actions directly express the state of my heart.
I want to be happy, so...I need to eliminate those thoughts of guilt and disappointment in myself, move forward, and just be happy.
So, here's to some changes around this joint. Here's to me being a better, happier human being so that I can be the mom, wife, self that I want to be.
Cheers.
And as for week 8/52...
ISO 160, f1.4, 1/400
ISO 160, f1.4, 1/640
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