First Crisis?

Last Wednesday I had what I think is my first emotional meltdown of motherhood. There have been plenty of small ones along the way, plenty of postpartum tears and whatnot, but this one really rocked me.

Nate had been away for two days. It had been raining, and miserable. It was cold. We were inside for several straight days. We were playing the 5.30 wake up game. I was feeling tired, and slightly overwhelmed by Christmas Cards, planning, decorating, shopping, cooking, cleaning, and the two small children I am in charge of 24 hours a day when Nate is travelling.

I have goals as a Mother, and goals for how I try to discipline. I try to redirect my busy toddler. I try to not use the word NO all the time. I try to use positive reinforcement. I try to not yell a lot. We don't spank.

I fail to achieve my goals all the time.

Luke just turned 22 months old. Its an awesome age. His language skills are expanding exponentially, and I love hearing new phrases and whole sentences come out of his mouth. He is sweet and cuddly and yet a total blaze of little boy-ness. He also seems to have a biological imperative to touch, climb, or otherwise mess with every.single.thing. that he comes into contact with. Keeping his busy little fingers from touching/grabbing/breaking anything and everything is in and of itself a full time job. Trying to do that while trapped nursing a baby, or cooking dinner, or really doing anything at all is frequently an exercise in frustration, and sometimes involves me using my mean voice (aka yelling).

Last Wednesday was a particularly hard day. There was no playgroup, which I usually look forward to on Wednesdays. It was a long morning. Luke was in a terrible sleep rut, and was waking too early, taking shorter naps, and tired and difficult. I took the kids to the gym around 3.45.

I went to pick them up at 5 so that we could go home and start the insanity that is the dinner/naked time/potty/pajama/bedtime thing. Its an easy thing when Nate is home, but trying to get them both fed and changed and played with, and then to try to nurse Julia and put her to sleep while Luke is doing his whirling dervish routine in the bedroom is simply hard.

Anyway. Our gym's childcare is awesome. They have two giant rooms that the kids play in ~ one only for the older kids filled with a whole two story maze of tunnels and slides. There is coloring, and movies, and tons of toys. There are other kids. I walked in and the girls handed me Julia, who was all smiles. Then they went to grab Luke ~ He looked at me, yelled MAMA! with a big smile, but then instead of running to me like he always does he turned back to his toy and started playing. He didn't want to leave. A girl tried to grab him and he resisted. He started to cry as she brought him over to the door to give him to me. He laid down on the floor and started sucking his thumb. I had Julia in my arms, was trying to get her coat on, trying to get the diaper bag, and the keys, and out the door, and my son was lying on the floor, after crying at the idea of having to go home. I was mortified. I felt so rejected.

I finally got him up and out (by carrying him ~ while he protested vocally). I got both kids in the car, started it up, and burst into tears. I cried the whole way home. I cried when Nate got home that night. Several times.

I know he was tired. I know that he simply wanted to play more. I know that it wasn't a rejection of me, or an indication that I am a terrible mother. Even KNOWING all of those things, my heart hurt.

I started thinking the thoughts that must not be thought.

I started feeling jealous of everyone who comes over and simply plays with Luke for an hour or two ~ his babysitters, his grandparents, his Aunt and Uncle. I felt as though, as a stay at home Mom, I am suddenly nothing other than the person who says NO all the time. I felt like un-fun Mommy. I started thinking terrible, undermining things ~ telling myself that I was surely failing both of my children. That I was not able to give each of them the attention that they deserve. That it would be easier to work in an office all day and have it be someone else who is telling them NO, and then swoop them up for a couple of fun hours before bed. I started to realize that my kids might well not like me much of the time ~ I started to realize that I will be the main person who is giving them rules, giving them chores, and disciplining them.....and that that job ~ while enormously important, could well mean that I am not well liked at times. I really let myself get into it ~ I started thinking about teenagers, and rejection, and hearing "I hate you!" from my sweet sweet babies. I cried a lot.

Nate told me I was nuts. I was tired, Luke was tired, and that's all that it was.

I know that he is right, and our week went uphill from there. I calmed down. Luke started sleeping better. I gave, and got, extra hugs from him. I have picked him up from childcare 3 or 4 times since then, and he has come running to the door with his arms in the air each time. It appears to have been an isolated incident.

Do all Mom's struggle with this? Being the "heavy"? Being the one to do the lions share of the disciplining, and the entertaining (or lack thereof) and the teaching, and the cleaning up, and the non fun errands, while other people play the "hero" role swooping in for non stop fun time? I want more fun time. Just plain old fun time ~

Am I being insane again for feeling this way?