Sometimes being a stay-at-home mom sucks.
Sometimes, it is okay, good even. Sometimes, I like it.
But sometimes, it really sucks.
Nothing special happened today. It was Joe's first day at work after the excitement and euphoria of Christmas.
My kids were overly tired. They were overly needy and overly stimulated and overly sugared, and all of that translated into overly clingy and overly whiny.
They touched me every moment of this day, feet pressed into my leg, faces pressed into my belly, little fingers wrapped tightly around my forearm. They laid across me and sat too close to me and sucked up my personal space without any reservations at all.
The big one pushed the little one around. Every time I gave Allie attention, Grace got angry or sad or mean.
I spent the entire day managing drama.
My energy and patience were depleted by 10 am.
By lunchtime, Momma needed a nap and a break.
We didn't have any plans today, nowhere to go, nothing to do except sit at home and whine.
There was no break.
I counted down the minutes until Joe would be home, one heavy breath after another.
And now, six hours after he came home, children asleep in their beds, I want to stay up late to make tomorrow to wait a little longer. Staying up late tonight will lead to a tired and grumpy and stressed out momma tomorrow, so I'll go to bed at my normal time.
I'd go to bed early if I thought it would help.
Today was the inevitable result of the greatness we had over the weekend. It had to happen as the small people I love readjusted back to their normal.
But I am not a saint, and today sucked.
I composed this blog post in my mind today, right after Grace pummeled Allie but before I picked up the living room floor for the seventh time. It was just that kind of day.
I daydreamed about what it would be like to go back to work, to put my girls in day care and miss the meltdowns and the skirmishes and the tantrums. And to go to the bathroom by myself.
But if I missed the meltdowns and the skirmishes and the tantrums, I'd miss the smooches and the hugs and the giggles, too. I'd miss the impromptu fancy lunches and the tickling and the cuddling with a book.
I'd miss my kids.
I'd miss their childhood.
I want to be present and involved for all of their moments, effortless and formidable. I want them to remember a super mom. I want to model grace and love and kindness for them.
Even the ones that suck.