The Snowball

WARNING: This post is quite disjointed and the result of a lot of late night rambling and emotions. Read on at your own risk of boredom, confusion, or exasperation.

So, it has been nearly four months since my last post. Honestly, I marvel at the folks who do a worth-while and entertaining post DAILY. Masters of multitasking.

That brings me to what I was venting about to Fantastic Mr. Fox earlier this evening: my feelings of inadequacy and lack of utility. An important thing and disclaimer that my reader(s) needs to understand is that I have some problems (as do many, many people). Some of the biggest and most destructive problems are misplaced guilt, comparing myself to others, and extremely low self-esteem/image. The perfect storm for an evening ruined and pretty much all of what I'm about to delve into has something to do with these concepts.

As I mentioned, I have a very nasty habit of comparing myself to others. For as long as I have memory I have done this (yes, breaks hearts to think of a small 3-4 year old doing such a thing) and it has almost never been a good thing. I have many flaws and I am terrible at keeping the demons at bay who like to remind me of those flaws.
Since the day that Baby L. was born I have felt like a failure as a mother. Slightly melodramatic, yes. As I understand these feelings are pretty typical for first-time moms (especially when the PPD takes hold) because of the huge life-altering changes that are rapidly happening and usually fade as they get the hang of their new gig and the post-delivery hormones balance-out. Unfortunately, these feelings have not gone away for me. They have become less intense, but they still linger on a nearly daily basis. I tearfully told Mr. Fox tonight that it is because I love Baby L. so, so much and want to be the perfect mom and that he deserves the BEST momma in the universe, which obviously is not me. I do my best and I feel like I barely squeak by. To a spectator, I think I would appear to be doing just fine and have little to complain about, but to me, I am light years behind where I think I should be. I don't understand why it is so difficult for me to juggle caring for him and the rest of what is going on in my life, but it is and I beat myself up for it.

In addition to these feelings, it snowballed and I went on to apologize for the sad state of our 4x5 sq ft dark basement apartment (I jest about the dimensions, but only slightly...) and how it is not so beautifully decorated or is never fully clean and always has toys and dishes and laundry out of place. You would think that having such a small place would mean that it is very easy to keep neat and tidy, but you would be sorely mistaken. If anything, it makes it more difficult because there is nowhere to PUT anything. Everything is stashed hither and thither throughout the place and little grabbing hands pulls everything out faster than I am able to track. Before we had Baby L., we were already pushing the limits of space and were using one of John's (my father in-law who's basement apartment we live in) upstairs bedrooms for the excess and storage. We didn't (and still don't) by any means have tons of stuff or were in danger of becoming hoarders, but bring a little baby and all the necessities that come with that baby into the mix with a couple in a single bedroom dwelling and it quickly became a sardines in a can situation.

As the snowball that was this vent of feelings to Mr. Fox caught speed, I went on to express how I felt like I couldn't do anything that I enjoyed or needed to do because of the smallness of our place and the difficulty of caring for Baby L. in such a place. The designated living room serves as at least eight rooms: Living room, dining room,  nursery, computer room/craft room, family room/play room, guest room (hide-a-bed in our couch), and dressing/hair/makeup room. We are currently on the hunt for a house, but it's very frustrating and emotionally draining and very time consuming. Add that to the 24/7 Baby L. and Fox Family duties, and The Nest is never going to revive.

I see my friends and family who are married and so happy and doing so well with beautiful homes, beautiful self, and effortlessly raising their babies and I can't help but think "What's wrong with me? Why am I unable to do it all?" I imagine that these are also very normal things to think to a degree, but it is almost obsessive with me and it drives me nuts. It always pops into my head when I see these people and their homes and their families.
I realize that it's not right to compare what you have with someone else because there are far too many life variables that lead you to where you are and where they are. I know it's irrational and not productive, but I still do it. I want to be better at everything: cooking, cleaning, raising my children, teaching, decorating, gaming, sewing, creating, singing, piano-ing, befriending, smiling, writing, exercising, church-ing... The list is endless. How do they do it??? I ask you honestly, HOW??

I so want to be the mom/wife/woman who does everything with so much grace and poise. Everyone sees that woman and knows she has it all together with a happy home, happy family, happy husband, happy friends, and happy self. Is it impossible? Maybe someday.