I worry too much. I work too much. I think too much. I forget too much.
I don’t sleep enough. I don’t pay enough attention to my kids. I don’t do enough for myself.
I let them watch too much tv. I look at my phone too much. I eat too much junk.
Her IEP is coming up… I don’t know what the right answers are. I don’t know the magic words to say to get my kid what she needs. I’m not an expert in this field and I have no interest in becoming one. I want to trust these people but I can’t. They won’t just give it to me straight.
She wants me to come read to her class. She asks me every day. I don’t have the time to get the freaking security clearance done and they won’t accommodate this working mom to help me get it. I’ve literally disappointed my kid every single day.
The little one is going to preschool this week. I’m not sure when he got so tall or stopped being that baby I’d always wished he wasn’t. It took me until 4 months before his third birthday to realize he has a bit of a speech delay and get him early intervention. I don’t focus enough on him.
I take nothing she does for granted. I take everything he does for granted.
My partner in all this is the last person I have time for. The kids have gone to bed and all we want to do is sit on the couch. That’s a good night – lately, most are spent at my desk, doing work I didn’t get to during the day. I’m exhausted every night. I tell him it’s temporary. And then another project comes along.
My friends keep asking me to come out. I turn them down more often than not. I’m just too tired, feeling too guilty, working too late. I hope they don’t stop asking.
I don’t feel like spending money on vacations is a good use of money when we’ve spent so much in the last year on the house. We haven’t taken a legit vacation since 2011. I want to go back to the Carribean. I want to take the kids to Disney. I want to go somewhere where no one knows a thing about us.
35. I wonder what I’ll regret when I’m 70. Did I work too much? Did she get everything she needed? Did I miss his childhood? Do I even know who the guy sitting next to me is?
This is what my truth looks like.
This post is part of a week-long CT Working Moms series.