It's been a bit since my last post.
Things have been crazy lately what with the Artist's debut in So Cal, Owen's pre-school/speech therapy schedule, his asthma attacks, and Stewart's WALKING.
I've been my usual self- vascillating between "I'm a fucking goddess" and "I'm the worst mother in the world!" - attacks.
Any mother can sympathize with me there. You know how there are those days when you hit your stride and you can wheedle your toddler into peeing on the potty, while brushing your teeth with one hand and miraculously catch your baby before he falls into the bathtub with the other? Those are the goddess days.
Then there are the days when toddler pees on floor, in hand, or kicks and screams and refuses to go at all, you can't even get your pants off to take a piss without them clawing at your legs and screaming (never mind brushing your teeth or showering), and you narrowly miss your baby at every turn and he ends up with giant bloody scratches on his face and a couple of Shrek stickers pasted onto the roof of his mouth. Those are the days when you turn on the Disney channel, dole out the Tootsie pops, and flagellate yourself for being a horrible mother.
On the goddess days, you think "Damn, I'm good! I oughta have another baby! I owe it to the world to have more than two because I'm just THAT GOOD! I'm gonna have four! Five! Sky's the limit, honey, look out!"
The worst mother in the world days make me wish I had tied my tubes when Stew came out.
So, most of the time, I'm in one of those two mindsets and pity poor Kyle- he never knows which.
I've discovered that, much like teaching, motherhood is a constant state of guilt. The good days are merely the ones that I can push the guilt to the back burner.