Combating guilt with grace
On the tough days, doing our best just has to be good enough
My three-year-old woke me up at 5:40 this morning - much earlier than her usual time.
As I stumbled bleary-eyed into her room, she was deliriously happy when she asked if it was a ‘family day’, the term for weekends in our house since I work full-time.
“Yes, girl.”
She literally shrieked with delight, as I thought to myself “it’s going to be a long day.”
Mom guilt moment #1. And before 6AM. I was off to a running start.
I yanked up what little patience I naturally have to counter the 4 hours of sleep I got as we walked down the stairs.
We took our dog for a walk, played hide and seek by the river (twice), went on an adventure to find cheese for a care package, grocery shopped, went to gymnastics class, built a castle, watched a movie together, made Playdoh snakes, read books, and she gave me her best toddler hairstyle.
At the end of the day as I was putting her to bed, when research tells me this is one of the three times in a day she’s most vulnerable, I unravelled.
She wanted extra books, then decided she didn’t. When I turned out the lights, she changed her mind again. Toddlers, am I right?
I sat down to read one only for her to stop me most of the way through and say it “didn’t count” because she didn’t want that book after all.
I put it back on the shelf, said that was enough for tonight, and told her I loved her as I tucked her in.
I couldn’t get out do the room fast enough…. And now I’m sitting in the dark living room sobbing and feeling crushed by the guilt of wishing those moments away when all she wanted was more mama time before she went to sleep.
Why couldn’t I just show up how she needed me to?
Why can’t I push through the exhaustion in the same way I believe everyone else can?
Why does this feel so fucking hard on days like today?
Because right now, it is.
I’m battling a horrid head cold.
I have a second-degree burn on my arm from bumping into my wood-burning fireplace an hour ago that’s already produced a blister.
I’ve had a shitshow of a week on both the work and personal side (thank you, messy middle and all the feelings that come with it).
I’ve slept all of 18 hours the last 4 nights combined.
I had an end-of-life discussion with the vet about my slowly declining dog two days ago.
We formalized a care decision for my dying parent this week.
Everything just hurts.
I’m going to try to refrain from berating myself about all of the things I believe I’m failing at, because I wouldn’t entertain my friends, or any mom frankly, speaking to themselves that way.
Instead, I’ll focus on processing the guilt to understand where it’s coming from before letting it go, ice my arm, write out a few affirmations about the ways I showed up today for Audrey I was proud of, and go to bed early. Oh, and publish this.
Guilt to grace is a conscious pivot that takes time.
Motherhood hasn’t always come naturally to me and I’m trying my best.
And days like today, that just has to be good enough.