Am I doing enough?
This question races through my mind daily, from sun up to sun down.
Am I doing enough for my preemie son? Am I doing enough for my stepdaughter? Am I doing enough for my husband?
Am I doing enough for myself?
After my husband and I got married, we decided that I would take a part time position at work in order to be home more with the kids and avoid so many days of childcare needs. I would work one to two days each week, primarily on weekends, and would therefore be available to pick up my stepdaughter from school, take my son to each and every therapy and doctor appointment, and keep up with the grocery shopping and the day to day needs of the house. I had visions of a freshly cleaned home each day, neatly folded laundry, and me, the perfect little housewife, learning (mastering, even) a recipe or two to feed the family for dinner after taking a walk in the park and maybe stopping for ice cream on the way home.
The joke is on me, I guess. And perhaps my husband, too.
As my son gets older and more mobile, his firecracker personality shines brighter and brighter. Simply keeping him alive is a full time job. My husband sometimes comes home to a house messier than it was the day before, me still wearing my pajamas and immediately defending (unprovoked) all the reasons why nothing has gotten done.
As if he doesn’t know that our son is fully capable of tearing down an entire shelf of DVDs, shattering a floor lamp and spilling juice across the rug in record time if we dare look away to even pour ourselves a drink (not that it’s ever happened…)
Still, I feel guilty. Am I doing enough?
Some days, I can’t handle another Minecraft story from my stepdaughter, or another breakdown of the latest DanTDM YouTube video, or another minute of watching Mario bounce across the Nintendo Switch screen. Sometimes, I zone out into a world of blog posts and Facebook while she continues on, wanting me to understand and love Minecraft and British blue-haired video gamers as much as she does. Those few zoned out minutes help me re-center and refocus, helping me hopefully be able to give myself more fully to my kids and my husband at a later time, even if it’s just by minutes. Then we enjoy dinner together and talk about her day at school.
But still, I feel guilty. Am I doing enough?
Sometimes, my husband gets home from a long work day, tired and worn out. I ask how his day was, and he usually asks what I did that day. Sometimes, the only answer I can give him is, “We watched Bubble Guppies and I paid a medical bill.”
And I feel guilty. Am I doing enough?
Nap time usually comes with its own private dose of daily mom-guilt. It’s the one hour a day where I can (could?) clean the house, catch up on laundry, take a shower, eat lunch, and breathe. But some days, all I can bring myself to do when Aaron naps is lie down and watch Netflix and take a nap of my own.
And I feel guilty. Am I doing enough?
I want to be everything my family needs me to be. I want to be the best mom to Aaron that I can be, the best stepmom that Adelia could ever imagine, and the best wife Josh could ever want. But some days, the most I can do is get up, keep the kids alive, tuck them in that night and tell them I love them, and do it all again the next day. Some days, we don’t even leave the house. And that’s okay. Motherhood isn’t always perfect. It’s not always organic snacks, homemade crafts, fun Pinterest activities and cloth diapers. Some days, it’s simply being there for your family. It’s talking about your day. Snuggling on the couch. Watching funny YouTube videos. And nicknaming the laundry pile “The Mountain.”
Eventually, The Mountain will be washed and neatly folded. Eventually, the toys will be picked up, books will be put away, and there won’t be a sink full of dishes. Eventually, my husband will come home to a perfectly cleaned house and a home cooked dinner, and we will sit down together at the dinner table. The toddler won’t scream and fight about sitting in his high chair, and handfuls of food won’t end up on the floor, only to be quickly licked up by the dog. But that day is not today.
And that’s okay.
As my son snuggles up close to me during his bedtime bottle, contented and peaceful, and my stepdaughter hugs me goodnight and tells me she loves me, I realize my mom guilt is unfounded. The family movie nights, the random unplanned trips to Pelican Snoball, the trips to the grocery store together, the time spent talking about our days, it’s all enough. The days when I’m tired and can only exert enough energy to just be there, it is enough. What my family needs is ME.
I am doing enough.