Having A Bad Day Doesn't Make You A Bad Mom, It Makes You Human

I wrote this a couple of weeks ago and wasn’t going to post it. But it was because I didn’t want to post it, that I realized I had to. Yes, it’s a vulnerable post. But that’s what I set out to do when I started this blog. I know that other moms have days like this and I’m here to tell you - you’re not alone, mama.

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Today was a tough day. I don’t know if it was the events of the week, the holidays, the fact that my period should be arriving any day now, or just the combination of all of the above. But today, I snapped. I’m writing this not only as my own catharsis, but also because I know that I cannot be the only mom who feels so overwhelmed some days that they just have to cry it out. I would have preferred that it didn’t occur in the middle of the Hard Rock Casino, but hey, sometimes you just have to let it out.

Anthony is at that stage where taking him outside the walls of our home has become a total nightmare. Every time I do it, I regret it. It’s like when you have a cavity, and you know it’s going to hurt when you suck the cold air into your mouth, but you do it anyways. He is so full of energy and loves his new walking ability that, as soon as his feet hit the floor, he is GONE. You cannot take your eyes off of him for one second. Going to peoples’ homes that aren’t baby-proofed is a total no-no. I’m literally forced to play defense the entire time because he will most likely bolt straight for the one thing that has been in the family for 100 years and then throw it to the floor like it’s a rag doll. Going out in public places is also tough, and you know who doesn’t make it any easier? The 80% of people that are making faces at me and making it clear that they are overly annoyed that there is a child present. I am so shocked that the norm is not to smile at a child anymore; that instead, most people stare blankly at them and then up at the mom like - can you remove him from my presence? How about a smile at me that says, “you’re doing great?” Even before I had Anthony, when I saw a child acting out, I never looked at the mom annoyed, I looked at her with sympathy and an “it’s going to be okay” look in my eyes. I wish that was the norm, rather than the distasteful looks that have become the popular response to seeing a child.

I know I shouldn’t let this bother me, but it does. Not because I’m embarrassed of my child’s actions, but it makes me sad that humankind - is not that kind.

Anyways, I should have known that it was going to be an iffy day to take him out when he only took an hour nap, rather than his two-hour (and sometimes even two-and-a-half hour) nap that he has recently switched to since converting to one nap a day. But what did I do? I went anyways. My grandma is in town from Switzerland and I’m lucky if I see her twice a year and, honestly, I wanted to get out of the house. It’s been getting a little lonely being home all day with him, and I’m getting stir crazy.

It all started out great. He was fine in the car on the way down there, then completely mesmerized by the new fountains they’ve added to the hotel, and even lasted another 45 minutes or so walking through the new shop area. When did he decide to lose it? Right as we were being seated for lunch. Something about him crying and running around pushed me to my limit. I looked at my mom and grandma and said, “I need to walk away for a second.” And I did. As I walked away, the tears overcame me like the torrential downpour that has taken over South Florida for the last few days. My mom followed me and before I knew it, she engulfed me in a much-needed hug. I felt so guilty and weak for crying to the woman who basically raised three kids alone while my dad traveled back and forth from the United States to Switzerland. I hate complaining to her about being tired, or feeling like I’m drowning in the stress that comes with having a child, because again, she had three. But now that I’ve calmed down and taken a step back from the situation, I remind myself that motherhood is not a competition. There is no need to compare my situation with hers, or anyone else’s. I can feel this way and it’s okay. It’s not okay for me to be stressed 24/7, but it’s okay for me to feel tired and stressed without feeling guilty for it.

So, I cried it out with her, gathered myself and whatever eyelashes I had left, and walked back toward the rest of the crew.

I knew what I had to do: I had to call it a day and take him home so that he could just run around our house instead of where we were. I felt defeated. Not only because I was starving and just wanted to sit and have a hot meal, but because truly, for a second, I wanted my life back. I just wanted to be able to enjoy myself without being stressed out about where Anthony was, or what he was about to break. I just wanted to sit there with a glass of wine and not worry about a child for one freaking second.

When bedtime came around and I was back to being level-headed, the guilt of how I felt earlier in the day consumed me. He was burning up, and now I realized why he was acting the way he was earlier - he didn’t feel good. He couldn’t communicate it to me any other way than acting the way he knew how to. It isn’t this little human’s fault that he is throwing a tantrum; that’s all he knows right now.

So, I paced the room with him for a long time. I paced until my arms couldn’t hold him anymore. As I paced, I thought about the day’s events. I thought about the guilt I felt for reacting the way I did. And then I thought about how, before this little human came along, my heart was just an organ that pumped blood throughout my body. But now my heart was no longer protected by my rib cage, it was literally living outside of my body. This tiny, fragile human has become my entire heart. Even when I feel like I’m going to explode with frustration, I have to remember that it is just one moment out of all the other moments. These moments are fleeting, and before I know it, he won’t be frustrating me, and I’ll be longing for him to need me.