These sweet words from my two year old boy could not have come at a better moment.
I've been feeling pretty crappy the past week and a half. I think it's a combination of a nasty cold and a minor Behcets flare. Whatever it is, I've bailed out of more things than I can list and I struggle to get over the feeling that I'm a flake. There is a battle going on in my mind in addition to the one going on in my body. The battle is between believing what is true about who I am and feeling like what I do or don't do or what others think about me defines me. I lose this battle often and wind up feeling even worse.
On top of these deep issues of identity, I also feel bad about the kind of parent I am on these days. Today, for example, Wyatt and I did not leave the house. We watched gobs of PBS and a Curious George movie and only ventured outside to say hello to Fidel as he dumped our can into the garbage truck. We had smoothies for lunch and I let him hang out in his bed after nap for at least 30 minutes while I tried to peel myself out of my bed.
I don't want to feel guilty but still do. I want to be a mom taking my son on adventures, enjoying the beautiful day at the beach or climbing up a hill. I want to be doing fun projects together or even just eating ripe strawberries from our backyard. I want to not have the television on nearly all day and I hate the fight I know tomorrow will be as a result of Wyatt getting to watch so much today. I hate saying no to friends who want to get together because I can't imagine having a conversation and being a parent at the same time. And my house sorely needs a good, deep clean but I don't know when that will happen.
Tonight Garett stood over the mess of dishes in the sink and said, "I'm looking forward to you feeling better." What I heard was, "It's a disaster around here and we all pay a price when you're sick." Garett's not the kind of husband who needs a honey-do list in order to get things done around the house. He's the primary toilet cleaner, trash taker-outer and vacuumer so I don't think he's complaining when he says that. He's just acknowledging that it's hard on all of us when I'm sick and I couldn't agree more.
When Wyatt said, "Mommy, you're my best friend," tonight, my heart swelled and I tried to not assume he said that just because he got to watch TV all day.
3 comments:
Love you, love you, love you! And I have seen you parent that boy and no one could be more loving and patient and attentive, even if you're both in sweatpants watching curious george. That's why he said you're his best friend.
Oh I WISH I'd read this before we got to talk today, so want to give you a big old hug and bring you a chai latte this afternoon. It sucks. Sucks sucks sucks. I am so sorry that it's been such a struggle and can completely relate to the feeling of things that you should be doing but have no motivation to do. Don't you wish you could bottle the hormones that go coursing through you in the third trimester of pregnancy? I'd take a shot of that nesting hormone every afternoon. And now I hear Sam throwing things during "quiet time" in his room. No nap today. Blah. Love you.
amy, i just discovered your blog from fb. wish we were closer. would love to be raising our boys somewhere near...thanks for your sweet, genuine post. i've been weepy all day feeling sad over my weaknesses, but so grateful for His love, acceptance and pleasure that he takes in me. hope you feel his arms around you as you get through this time of suffering physically. happy birthday.
anna
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