I did a lot today. Just dressing and feeding my toddler and my infant is a lot of work. Feeding and dressing myself before the meltdowns start (3yo CE’s, followed by mine, followed by CE’s, followed by 6mo TG’s, followed by mine–all while the dog slinks from room to room, hiding from all the whiney women…)? Also a big job.
Today we had to go get the car’s oil changed. In the rain. As any mom knows, there are already about a hundred steps to getting out the door with two small, needy children. Rain adds at least 20 more steps. So another big job.
Cleaning the house? Washing the mountains of laundry created by small children? Emptying the liquor cabinet? All big jo… wait, scratch that last one. ALL right, you get the idea…
Why is it, then, that I get to the end of the afternoon only thinking about what I didn’t do? I didn’t get to folding the clean laundry, nor to vacuuming, nor to working on my garden. All on my daily chore list. All still waiting to be done.
I didn’t even start dinner before my hubby got home, let alone have it on the table when he walked in the door soaking wet from riding his commuter bike in the rain (I did start water boiling to make him a cup of tea…). Aaaugh! My June Cleaver facade is crumbling to pieces!
Why is it so hard to focus on what I did accomplish, rather than what I didn’t? Everyone does this sometimes, but new moms seem especially prone to this feeling of “not enough.” In a world that judges people by the grandiosity of their achievements, the little things that become “big jobs” when you have needy little people depending on you just don’t sound like enough. For some weird reason, keeping dependant living cognizing little beings not only alive, but healthy AND happy, doesn’t usually sound like enough.
So I try to make up for lost grandeur with quantity. It sounds much more impressive to have a list of 10 to-dos done than to have only 5.
What does it all come down to? Is my IDENTITY defined by what I do? Or is it defined by who I am? I am a beloved child of God.
Beat that, check-list.
Come on, Moms! Can I get an “Amen?!”