I'm a writer.
I write things.
But only for an hour a day because I'm also a stay-at-home mom.
To a toddler.
Gmail me at ccr002
Clicky-click below to go to my Etsy shop!
This has been a bad day. But if we’re honest, things have been slipping south for a while. I do what I can, and I manage to be an acceptable mother. But other parts of my life are unraveling. I am angry all the time. I snap at strangers. I go postal at (I shit you not) the post office. I leave rambling, vitriolic messages on the maintenance man’s voice mail. I am a crazy lady. I am filled with rage.
I am at my breaking point. I know because I set the baby down while fighting with some random company on the phone and in my exasperation I didn’t realize he hadn’t put his hands down yet and he face-planted. My fault. My fault. I should have been paying closer attention. I should have a tighter lid on my emotions. I should be handling things better.
Why can’t I do this? Why have generations of women before me handled this while wearing heels and a smile and I sit here crying in a darkened bathroom? Why can’t I translate all the love I genuinely feel into some modicum of sanity and good parenting? What in the holy hell is wrong with me?!?
I’m thinking about going back to work and putting Brandon in day care. Not because I want to, but because I’m worried that I’m not a good mother. This is the saddest day. I am so unspeakably sorry.