I've had a rough week. In spite of all the help I've gotten from family and friends, I'm exhausted. The kid has run me ragged. RAGGED. Today has seen the worst of me. Today makes me feel ashamed and embarrassed and inadequate and unworthy of having a child who's so sweet and loving and adores me so much, and unworthy of having another.
This morning, I looked at my son and said much too loudly, "I've had enough!" And I left the room. I fled to the kitchen where I burst into tears. Apparently 75 minutes of non stop whining is my limit today.
"I just want to shower or get dress or go to the bathroom or eat something or drink something without being whined at," is what I said to myself.
He was fed, watered, dressed, had ample toys to play with. All I wanted was to drink a glass of water and eat one bite of my bagel. And I feel so guilty for it.
My brother came up seconds later and sat with Oscar, who did not whine once, until I returned to the room. And then, there it was, full tilt. The happy babbling baby was gone with his first glimpse of me. Super.
After 10 more minutes of the whining, I just put him down in his crib. He's up there now, playing, talking to himself, content. I have a few moments to sit here and write about this and try to get over it. Try to get over feeling like a failure because I cannot cope with my own child today; a failure because it's not his fault but still I blame him; a failure because he's only one for chrissakes and this is how a one year old behaves; a failure because if I can't handle him, how am I going to handle two; a failure because he is a good kid and deserves better.
Once when I was about ten and my brother was about six, my mom walked out on us. We were fighting and she just said, "I can't take this any more," and she took her keys, got in the car, and took off. We were crying and chasing after her. She came back five minutes later, having regained her composure and just went about her day.
I'm not angry and I don't blame her for this. My dad worked long hours and so did she and she never had any help. But, I always knew this was not something I ever wanted to do to my kid, to make my kid feel abandon and afraid and alone. And I fear that that is where I am headed.
Sometimes I am not the mother I imagined myself to be.