Being a mom is hard, having twins is hard, not having help is hard, yadda yadda yadda. I’ve said it all and I’m sure you’ve heard the same, perhaps more or even less, from others. I’m not a perfect mom, I’m not a perfect human, my marriage isn’t perfect. I also don’t pretend everything is sunshine and rainbows everyday. Life is full of ups and downs, some high ups and a lot of low downs. Some things you can shake off, others are a little harder to. I’m not here to criticize, shame, correct, or tell anyone that they’re not doing enough or not doing it right. I choose to be open about some aspects of my life because I find writing it and putting it out in the universe is somewhat therapeutic. That also doesn’t mean that all I ever do is complain. If you actually know me as a person outside this lovely blog, you know I’m pretty tolerant and patient, and I’m even a little bit of a optimistic person with a dash of skeptical. And borderline crazy, but that’s besides the point.
I was told today that I’m seen as Super Woman by some coworkers – working full-time, upgraded to supervisor, and I spend my time at home taking care of two babies with very little time for anything else. Supermom, sure, I’ll take it. Super Woman, thank you, but not by a long shot. That would imply I have very little flaws and that my hair and makeup are always perfect. Bullshit, I say, and so should you. I have my limits as any normal person does, and those get pushed often. My temper flares up quickly and takes a while for it to wind down. I don’t hold grudges often, but it’s hard to let go when I do. I raise my voice, slam things around the house to express frustration and anger, and I cry a lot. But I do give my all. Whether it’s rebooking passengers at work, getting up early every morning to care for the babies, or pushing back my own dinner time when I’m hungry and get home from work so I can feed the girls and put them to bed – I give it all I have and keep none for myself.
So when 9 o’clock hits at home, the girls go to their cribs for the night, and all the bottles and dishes have to be done. Then what? Do I force myself to act interested in doing anything or do I flip the bird to the world and go lie down? Do I finish the blog I started writing or do I browse 9GAG to have a few giggles before going to bed? Do I try to calmly ask why something wasn’t done or why it was done a different way, or do I just pretend that everything is fine and bottle it all up? Do I dare try to have any kind of conversations without hearing or saying “I’m so tired” or “I can’t do anything I want to do while watching the girls”, or do I just sit in silence on the couch, browsing on my phone? Do I pretend I don’t have feelings of loneliness, anxiety, anger, sadness, and at times dread, or do I just put on my work smile and say everything is fine for the sake of not having arguments or to not feel like my feelings aren’t validated? Do I stare at google, eyeing possible therapists that are most likely not accepting new patients or my insurance, or do I just tell myself I’ll feel better soon and tough it out? Do I write this stuff into an entry and risk being taken as an attention-whore with a crippling mental illness (don’t you dare cringe at that statement – just because you might not understand it, it doesn’t make it any less real), or do I vent to friends who are probably tired of reading the same kind of texts every week?
Often, decisions are made according to what’s easier to handle at that specific time. How I cope with the aftermath also varies. I love wine, but I don’t drink every day. I’m not an alcoholic. I’m an ex-smoker and was really proud of it, but I’ve snuck a few cigarettes here and there while at work (I refuse to smell like an ashtray around the girls) because of all this new stress that has proven to be different and difficult to handle. Self harm used to be a thing about 10 to 15 years ago, and now it just seems silly to me and I instead destroy the inside of my mouth by chewing on it. I also don’t want to worry anyone – I’m in no danger of doing anything stupid. Hearing “you’re doing great” and “you’re a great mom and you have your hands full” or “sounds like you two need help” has started to make me cringe. Not because those statements aren’t true, but because hearing them doesn’t change anything and only brings more anxiety (especially the last statement).
I want to go get my hair cut, nails done, and need to buy more diaper pail refills.