Do you know where I found bliss this week? In a grocery store. By myself. At 8am on a Saturday morning. I joke only the teensiest bit when I say this. I smiled the whole time, greeted people as they rolled by and looked at me skeptically, and glided my cart down the aisle without a care in the world. I was in and out in 45 minutes and managed to hit everything on the list, even revisiting an aisle or two for forgotten items.
Let’s juxtapose this against me flying solo with two little girls. I feel like a circus. I get flustered and simultaneously embarrassed by the public struggle. Imagine the scene: I am holding LMJ, cradling her, feeding her, shooshing her, swinging her upside down, chasing after her so she doesn’t eat an acorn, rock, small toy, piece of grass, popped balloon and really anything else you can think of that she shouldn’t eat. This takes literally all of my physical and emotional attention but there is a 3.5 year old who would like some as well. It’s not that I blame her – I know she is only 3 – it is that I can’t help her out and then I feel bad and guilty. I feel bad and guilty for what my husband identified as literally “there not being more of you.” I am maxed out with the baby and then the 3 year old gets the short end of the stick – the short end of my patience, the short end of my attention, the short end of my ability to put on a happy face while dealing with her bullshit. To top it off I feel judged (and I know this is a whole other ball of wax) for being short, impatient, and unkind. This is so typical, right? I am so not alone?
I know that I’m a good mom. How do I know this? Because I am doing my best and if I’m not always good, I am always good enough.
However, until my life feels less like an attraction that I could sell tickets to you can find me at the Market Basket in Somerville at 8am on Saturday morning blissfully waiting at the deli counter for them to call my number.