From Tami: Mom Guilt

Sometimes I feel like a pretty bad mom.

Like when I end up in the ER with two different kids for two different reasons at the same time. Seriously, what kind of mom has two children separately and simultaneously injured at an ER-level? This kind, apparently.

Or I feel like a bad mom when I can’t get to one child’s school event because I have to work, but I went to it the year before for his brother. That never feels good.

I feel like a bad mom when I lose my temper, especially if it is over small stuff. (But for goodness’ sake, can people please stop putting empty food containers back in the pantry? And is it really worth it to freeze outside because your coat is no longer cool enough to wear?) But the reason isn’t important. I am the mom, so I’m supposed to be able to speak rationally to the children. And I usually succeed.

But sometimes, sometimes, I am just human. I hate that you can never tell when I clean the kitchen, because by the time I have finished with the dining room the kitchen has reverted back to its apparently natural state. I hate that the laundry never (ever) ends. I hate when someone opens the fridge and announces that there is nothing to eat because a) there is, and b) do they think the food makes itself? I hate when there is fighting over whose turn it is to walk the dog, because the poor dog clearly needs to go out. And we have a dog-walking schedule, so this shouldn’t even be an issue to begin with.

But do you know what I love? I love my home, messy as it might be at times. I love my dog (no qualifier here, I just love my dog!). I love my husband, who is really my partner in everything. And I love our children, all eleven of them, even though I occasionally entertain fantasies of going on strike. I really love these crazy kids, and looking at them—seeing how wonderfully they are all growing up—makes me feel like a pretty good mom.

We moms can get quite harsh about ourselves. We might harbor guilt, anxiety, or even anger. I try to let that go and enjoy the wild ride of motherhood, mess and all.

I’m sure your kids are fabulous. And that you get a lot more of the credit for that than you realize.

And that’s why you’re a SuperMom.


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