“Tonight, I quit. I am putting in my two weeks notice for being a mom. I can’t do this anymore. It’s become too much.”

A thought I’ve had more than once. But tonight was enough to get me started on this blog that I’ve been thinking of for about 3 years now. 

I’m a mom. An identity that was given to me about 5.5 years ago when two pink lines showed up on a stick I had peed on (while crying). Then 2.5 years ago I was a mom again. This time with (a little) less crying.

Before I was a mom I didn’t scream daily, I knew how to put makeup on, I rarely put my hair into a bun, I gave parents strange looks when their child sat down on the ground in the middle of the grocery store and I fit into a size 6 dress. 

Things change. 

But back to my two week notice. Tonight my son decided that he was going to channel his inner Mariah and scream at a pitch that proved he hadn’t hit puberty yet. Thankfully we don’t own glass wear (because my kids break everything) or it would have shattered. While he was standing in the kitchen screaming at me like a banshee he also managed to inform me that I was a “Bad Mom”. And not in the hit movie kind of way. 

How can someone who is barely 3 feet tall, with snot and other fluids streaming out of his face, break me down into nothing? I’ve been told before that I’m a “bad mom” or an “unfair mom”. This time however, I believed it. Mostly because I was thinking it before the words were spoken/screeched. 

How horrible is that? Not only do I tell myself that my body isn’t pretty anymore, that I have an irritating voice, that my hair is too frizzy, or that my skin is too pale. But I tell myself that I’m not good enough for two human beings that I created!!

It’s so hard to know if I’m doing this right or not. I mean when they’re 30, and I can physically see how they turned out, then I’ll know if I did a good job or not. But right now, tonight? I couldn’t tell you. I can tell you what my guess is. It’s that TONGHT, not a good job. 

My goal is to raise my children to be productive members of society. Tonight, I yelled at my son to “shut your mouth, I’m done!” I spoke those words to him. His tiny ears that are framed by beautiful brown curls heard those words come out of my mouth. Tonight, I failed. Tonight I did not help raise a productive member of society. 

After I put him and myself in timeout, I went and talked to him. I apologized and in a calm manner was able to talk to him. We’re okay now. He’s eating cereal and I’m eating nachos. My daughter and husband played on snapchat while this ordeal went down. (He’s a good husband. He knows when I need to work some mom stuff out. As hard as it maybe for him to not fix everything for me)

Then it hit me. I was so upset about the words that I spoke to him, because of how it will affect the man he will grow up to be. But I have no qualms about telling myself that I’m not good enough. Why is that? Is it because I’m already grown up? (I’m sure the jury is out on that one)

All I know is that the words I speak go out into the world. And they are heard. I just need to remember that I am an example of who I want them to grow up to be. So I need to be a better example to myself too. Im not perfect, far from it. Clearly, did you read what happened tonight? I just need to not throw in the towel. Because the reality is, I can’t give my two week notice on being a mom. It’s not a job (although I am a SAHM), it’s life. It’s the life that I was entrusted with. Good, bad or other wise. 

Tomorrow is a new day,