I often feel completely inadequate as a mother. I try my best, I do, but sometimes it just doesn’t feel good enough.
I yell too much. I can’t keep a clean house. I don’t play with them. I lose my temper far too quickly.
I love my kids fiercely, but sometimes it’s hard to like them….or rather, what they do. And I know I KNOW the feeling is mutual. And I blame myself, mostly.
I’m jealous of mothers that just do it so naturally, so calmly, so happily. I’m happy for them, of course, but I also sometimes feel like my kids drew the short straw when they got me, the mom that sometimes yells about how messy their rooms are when she puts them to bed instead of tucking them in and kissing them good night.
I will always ALWAYS fight for them, protect them, and try my best to set a good example, praying they grow up to be good, polite, kind people. But if I’m their role model, I can only hope that the good days weigh on their hearts more than the bad.
I feel this way frequently. We are not good judges of our own motherly performances. Are the children healthy and happy? That's enough. (even if they're not happy 100% of the time, because are they ever?) Hugs.
OMG! I do the same thing – yell at my kids about their messy rooms when I go in to say gods night! I always feel so horrible after but sometimes I just can't help it. I actually made a pact with myself not to say anything to the two older ones anymore and let them live in their filth. They know that friends are not allowed over if their rooms are such messes. My husband's grandpa always said: "You do what you can with what you got!" It is enough and we have to keep telling ourselves that. Sending hugs!
This is so SO me. I have a friend who will post things like "all the noise in the house means I have 4 happy, healthy boys!" Which is true. And she is genuine and I know she has this attitude because A) she is just like that and B) one of her boys had cancer as a wee one. But it's so hard for me to feel that when my house is messy and noisy. Hugs, friend.
I have the same complaints about myself (except I don't begin to consider myself a mother). My patience is far too thin, my discipline is far too inconsistent, I'm far too into "my stuff" when I'm with my kids (heck, my little boy seldom even bothers to ask if I'll play video games with him in the mornings, because he knows the answer will be no).
Then, this weekend, I was at a birthday party for a 4 year old. She invited everyone from her preschool class (including my two, who are a year ahead, but were in class with her last year), local neighbors, and cousins, which meant a smattering of kids from 3 to 9. First, a five year old came, and his parents left. Then, the same with a three year old. A three year old, left by herself, at a 4 year-old's party . . .
I commonly believe I suck as a parent, I can't deny that . . . but, compared to the general populous — well, for the rest, I believe I have far too high an expectation.