Today I looked at myself in the mirror and saw how tired and lifeless I looked. The day was long. The stress is immense at the moment. Simultaneously working on many things, as per usual.
And then a little voice whispered into my ear that I was not the fun parent. Well his exact words were that he has more fun at his dads than he has at home.
Was this expected, actually yes. It’s normal. Was I still hurt by it, definitely.
In the moment I brushed it off because what does a 5 year old understand about words having an impact. He just thinks about his cousins and the fact that he’s allowed to watch his tablet all day, everyday, which he’s not allowed at home. He remembers legoland. The trips are always fun.
I’ve always known that I’m the boring parent. I’m the parent who interrupts his sleep in the morning for school so I’m able to work and afford the bills.
I’m the parent who takes him to the pediatrician and knows his doctors by name.
I’m the parent who shows up at school meetings. I’m the parent his teachers know by name and I know theirs.
I’m the parent whose phone rings when he’s sick and needs to leave work early to pick him up.
I’m the parent who eventually calls in sick at work for the next few days because who else will do it?
I’m the parent who forgot to follow up with work because his lungs sounded tight for 3 days in a row.
I’m the parent who doesn’t get to sleep because I need to make sure he’s breathing in the night.
I’m the parent who doesn’t get to enjoy the whole bed because somehow my bed is more comfortable than his and he has to sleep right next to me.
I’m the parent who says no pretty often. No to sweets. No to new toys. No to screen time during the week.
I’m the parent who sits down on Saturdays and teaches him how to read. It’s not always fun having to sit down and not face a screen.
I’m the parent who encourages him to pick up a book instead of a tablet.
I’m the parent who can’t afford a vacation just yet.
I’m the parent who does the boring day to the day stuff.
I’m the parent who’s currently sitting in the train, looking at her reflection and having to remind myself why I’m doing this.
I’m the parent who will get home and cry about this because those words definitely echo in my head.
I’m the parent who will put on a brave face every morning and function even when I don’t feel like it.
I’m the parent who’s present but hey dad’s place is more fun.
And actually I love it for him because who doesn’t want to get out of their comfort zone and experience some fun!? He’s just five but why do I hear his voice in my head saying dad is more fun!?
All this sappy write up is probably to remind myself that I’m a good mother. I know it but a lot of times it doesn’t feel that way. However I choose to be still. I’ve already had one outburst today and it wasn’t pretty 🥲
One day at a time 