I am sorry that I would push you and dad apart when you would kiss in the kitchen or hold hands in public because I thought it was gross. I now understand that you two never had any time alone to connect with one another as a couple. And, seeing you two show each other affection for all those years served to model the type of relationship that I wanted to have with my spouse.
Author: Stacy DeMarco
Maybe I am a traditionalist at heart, but I still believe every woman has to do what is in her heart … what is right with her soul. And that is pretty damn progressive.
I tend to be an insanely private person. I reserve most of my quirks (and there are a lot) for my closest friends and family. So, when my manager suggested writing posts this month that would help our readers get to know us, I seized the opportunity to really put myself out there.
Last night, as I was cooking dinner, my mind wandered onto thoughts of my grandmother as it often does. I started thinking about how full her life has been. She worked. She owned a business. She raised a family. She is an amazing friend. She was involved in politics. She served the town in various capacities, etc., and yet, at the end of every day, the thing that she feels pressed to do is cook dinner for “the kids.”
I listen to them cry, or whine, or pout over our nightly dinner, and mostly, I ignore it. Sometimes, I become frustrated (after all, I did not really want to cook after working all day only to hear them complain about it). I keep telling myself that with consistency, increasing maturity, and growing palettes, this will all get better over time. But, in the meantime, is it really supposed to be torture for everyone?!? I have often wondered if I am handling my picky eaters well…
I am going to spare you the running list of tasks that I performed or the lengths that I went to in order to achieve Super Mom status, but just know that I honestly did it all. Everything. I was a machine, literally. There was no time to be human. I was killing myself going through the motions, taking care of everyone and everything. And, sometimes, it felt awesome. I was unstoppable. I equated controlling the chaos with greatness. Therefore, I was a great mom.
I made the decision to shift to a position in my field that no longer required as much of me. I now have a great job that I enjoy (most of the time), but I am not where I imagined I would be career-wise by any means … Although this change worked wonders for my stress and seemed like a perfect solution, there have been many times over the last four years that I have wondered if I made the right choice. Am I fulfilling my purpose? Am I really making a difference? Am I doing enough?!? After all, I never really did get around to changing the world.
Over time, my inner voice became my reality. I succumbed to my inescapable anxiety. It was crippling and all-consuming. And soon I became resentful of my life.
Confession Time! I lie to my kids sometimes. And since I want to be honest with you all at least, I do not really feel that bad about it. Here are some lies I tell my kids…
I have heard many parents say that when they are with their children, they long for a break. And when they have a break, they long for their children. I am not immune to this by any means. Many days are spent yelling and not because I do not want to do better. But because sometimes I am too tired or overwhelmed. And sometimes, I just do not know how. But please know that every night I long for a better tomorrow.