Today was not my best. Life has seemed to be extra hard lately and for the most part I feel like I am staying fairly positive and trying to keep things in the perspective of “this won’t last forever.” Today however I failed. I stayed in my pajamas a lot of the day. Josh was out of town and as I know that my kids prefer cereal to pretty much everything else that I make, we had cereal. I let my boys do their homework as they watched movies, we didn’t pick up the house before they went to bed, and I really hope someone brushed their teeth, but I’m not betting on it.
On the whole I would not call myself a perfectionist. I have four boys, so the house gets cluttered, I have a tendency to be late to pretty much everything and I try to not take life too seriously. There is however one thing in my life that I am a perfectionist in and it just so happens that it is the hardest thing in the world to be perfect at. Motherhood.
I love being a mom in a way that I never even dreamed was possible. My boys constantly say sweet things to me. Lots of nights I get into bed only to notice that one of my boys (it’s always the same one), has put a note on my pillow telling me how much he loves me from ??? My boys all let me snuggle them still and I can’t even tell you how many inside jokes we have that keeps us laughing constantly. Its definitely the most fulfilling thing I have ever done. And the hardest.
Most nights I go to bed beating myself up for all of the times that I wasn’t as patient as I should have been, all of those pins I have on Pinterest that I still haven’t done with my boys, the fact that my 8 year old insists on wearing the same red jeans to school every day and sometimes that battle just isn’t worth fighting, so I let him.
The guilt that goes along with Motherhood is universal. Most moms I know feel it to some extent. If I really look at the things I am feeling guilty over, most of them are dumb. Sometimes I feel guilty over the fact that I don’t feel guilty over something I should feel guilty over…I have a problem.
Tonight I was talking to a friend telling her every crazy thing that was going on in my life and then telling her each and every time I had dropped the ball today (there were a lot of them). When the whole sob story was out she just smiled and said “sounds like you had a pajama day, some times you need to declare a pajama day and then not worry about anything the whole day.” It was so what I needed to hear, that it wasn’t a big deal and my kids would still survive a night (or even a couple of nights) of cereal for dinner and non teeth brushing. By the end of our conversation I felt so much better, but then I realized that I hadn’t declared the day a pajama day. I hadn’t done it right. Pajama days were supposed to be declared at the beginning of the day and you were supposed to spend the day not worrying about anything. Today I worried about everything, I just didn’t do anything. I really think I need a pajama day do over. But I can’t promise I won’t feel guilty