And Then Everything Was OK
Returning to work this time around is tougher, though. For one, I know Stephen is at home struggling with caring for two kids. And then, when I get home, I'm now having to split myself between housework and two children. I'm having a hard time accepting the fact that I can't be a good, attentive mom and get all the laundry done, bathroom cleaned, floors swept, etc. I might be able to get some of the laundry done and at least pick up the assortment of toys that were strewn about on the floor that day. And that's about it. As far as doing anything additional that I might want to do, I can forget about it. Henry's screaming at me to pay attention to him, and Asher's about to explode if I don't get another train video lined up for him on the computer.
It's funny, though, how one second I can absolutely feel like I'm going to bash my head through the wall, and then Henry will give me a giant smile (see below) or Asher will tell me he loves me, and then all is right with the world. Amazingly - that's all it takes. I wish there was some way I could bottle those smiles and coos and sweet and funny words that come from my kids and take a hit off of it whenever I need a pick-me-up. Because sometimes when I get that overwhelming anxiety attack, my kids aren't showering me with love. Sometimes they're both screaming at me at the same time, and both have poopy diapers, and both need to be fed. And this is why I have about a million pictures of my smiling babies plastered all over the walls of my house, so that no matter where I am and what kind of wringer they're putting me through, I can glance up, take a deep breath, see my happy babies and remember that I'm not just their mom. I'm a good mom. I may not be able to be in two places at once or have four arms to hold them at the same time or have floors clean enough that they can eat off of, but not once have I drowned them in the bathtub or driven them into a pond of water. I will always remind them of that.
