Its so hard to find the time and energy to blog. The only thing keeping it in my thoughts at all is that its the only place I record our goings on. For that reason, I can never give it up.
Life has been crazy.
We moved into a new apartment on May 1st. We left our West Ridge home for a Wrigleyville one. Matt's commute has been (more than) cut in half, and our rent is cheaper, despite the great location. But our apartment is older, which is okay. The nicer way to say that is "it has character".
Since moving, I have struggled in patience with the boys. Mostly Maddox. With Mason it's pretty simple: set a boundary, he tests it, time out, rinse and repeat. But Maddox, that's a different story. Kids become more complex as they grow and develop. Their needs aren't as obvious, and their challenges develop more layers. Parenting stakes seem higher, and the game more difficult.
I think the need to make our house a home left me with little time and patience to be a good mother. I have been feeling guilt about not living up to my expectations lately. I know other people struggle, but it doesn't really seem like it, and that can be quite isolating.
After losing my temper more than I care to admit, I am at a point now where I have realized that things will get done when they get done. It doesn't really matter if I still have boxes to unpack or walls to paint. It doesn't matter if it takes an hour to do breakfast, or an hour to get out the door. It doesn't matter if there is laundry to do, floors to sweep, or pictures to hang. It doesn't matter if Mason is in his pajamas, Maddox's hair isn't combed or they have eaten pancakes for the third time this week. None of that matters.
What matters is time with my children. Moments together. I want to instill joy in their hearts and leave them memories of a mother who was gentle, kind and warm. A mother that would always put down the broom to read a book or wrestle. They are only little for a very short time, every day they are older than the day before. The opportunities to just enjoy them are slipping away, and my biggest fear is regretting that I didn't cherish it enough, that I was too stressed, or too busy to be the mom I wanted to be. That I didn't live in the moment with them.
I have made a promise to myself that I will no longer allow the stress of what I think needs to be done to affect my attitude, tone, or temperament. Nothing in this world is more important to me than my children. And I want more than anything for them to feel loved, validated, heard, encouraged, valued. Because they are.
I'm not perfect. I never will be. There is always room to be a better mom. But I love my boys with my whole heart. I never want them to doubt that.