Not only Mother's Day, but the anniversary of the day we met the AT - and all I've thought about this weekend is my incompetence at this motherhood thing. I just feel like I'm not doing a very good job; I lack patience, I'm tired, I find myself raising my voice in exasperation more and more often. We go entire days without reading any books until the bedtime. The TV is on more than two hours a day. I can't seem to say "no" when it comes to sweets. In one day, he'll eat a cupcake, an ice cream, chocolate covered pretzels ...
He doesn't want to get dressed when I need him to get dressed. He wants to walk when I want him in the stroller. He wants to be in the stroller when I want him to walk. If I tell him not to throw his pancakes on the floor, he'll throw them at the ceiling. He just does not want to use the potty.
The house is a mess. I fall asleep at his bedside, with a sink full of dirty dishes, baskets of unfolded clothing, ankle-deep crumbs on the living room rug.
And yet ...
he doesn't even seem to notice my incompetence. He wraps his sweaty, sticky, chocolate-covered hands around my neck, clings for dear life, kisses me with his sweet, drooly lips, and call me "Mommy."
HAPPY MOTHERS DAY.
lots and lots of sourdough–my routine
1 week ago