My day started out great, I got up and got dressed an threw in a load of laundry and started last nights dishes. I then went on Facebook and was a little sad that it seemed like everyone had plans for Christmas Eve with friends and family and I had no plans at all. Most of my family is in Quebec, with the exception of my parents but they are on the verge of a move and I know how hectic that can be! So much so that because of Mike and I’s move we had decided to lay low for Christmas this year (That and a major other reason but i won’t get into it). I was just a little down that my little family would not be doing anything “christmas-y” ce soir.
My days are usually pretty average. I spend them at home with my boys. Today I caught up on a few more episodes of Cashmere Mafia only to find out that it was a total waste of my time because as it turns out there is only half a season and it was filmed in 2008. I should have known.
Tonight tho was my breaking down point. An image is printed in my head of a mother on Christmas Eve baking cookies in the kitchen with her children, laughing. Making memories. Having fun. But it’s never like that in my kitchen. I wasn’t baking, I was cooking supper. The kitchen is a mess (of course..dishes everywhere while cooking) and Ryver can’t sit still. He stands on a chair next to me at the counter and tries to help any way he can. He stirs food, he plays with knives he finds on the counter, he stands over the stove and tries to put his hand in a hot frying pan.
Cooking used to be, and still is, a passion. It’s a method of relaxation for me, especially when accompanied with a glass of red. But with a two year old it’s more of a beautiful disaster. The mother side of me wants to just lay back and let him help even if it means getting in my way. But the Virgo in me gets angry because I am not in control and I cannot get anything done when every two seconds I have to take a look at what he is touching and make sure he is not hurting himself. Not to mention tonight when he came out of his bedroom holding a GIANT poop in his hand saying “Mommy, poopoo!” in which I am suppose to say “Yay!” but rather said, “Oh shit!” (No pun intended).
I don’t have any red in my house tonight. Sadly it is Christmas Eve and the liquor stores are closed and wine never lasts long in this house anyways.
I thank God that we now live in a house secluded from most houses around us. Cause when I scream, I scream loud. And I cry because when I scream it makes me feel like I have failed myself and my children. It makes me feel like I am not fun and that my children will grow up just seeing me as this monster. I want to be more laid back and every night, I promise you, I go to bed and say “Tomorrow will be different, no yelling or getting frustrated.” But tomorrow comes and one thing leads to another and I am back to square one.
I love my kids, I do. I think of all those mothers who have it so much harder than me. The ones with sick children especially. I know it can’t be easy because when I think of my kids as anything but what they are now, it makes me sad. I just don’t know how to hold it together and let go and laugh everything off all the time. That’s the mother I want to be, I’m just not sure why it’s so damn hard to get there.
I do feel much better now that I have blogged about it. I tend to blog about issues that are on my mind but I don’t like sharing how I feel because in my mind it makes a person weak when they show their weaknesses. But tonight that’s what I am doing.
I gotta go now, Ryver is asleep and the hubby is on his way home to have a delish bowl of Cream of Cauliflower & Cheese soup.