It's been a tough week, here on Mom Street. Did you know that if you start performing the duties of Daddy, that no one comes along and takes over the duties of Mommy? It's true. Just because I'm taking out the trash and giving the baths and reading the bedtime stories doesn't mean that I get out of buying the groceries and cooking the food and doing the dishes and folding the laundry and scheduling the appointments and hiding Easter eggs for the class or any other of the large and small tasks that I perform around here.
I know that lots of moms have it much, much, MUCH worse than I do. Military wives, the wives of truck drivers, of professional athletes all deal with spouses who travel more than mine does. Single-moms have my enduring and utmost respect for managing to hold their families together under the strain of doing it all. But this is my blog, and my story, and this is how I'm feeling today.
Grasshopper and I are both out of our groove when JR is gone, and this time it seems harder than I remember to go it alone. JR says that I always complain this much when he travels, but I don't think so. This time I'm filled with self-doubt, and that makes everything seem worse.
I don't sleep well when I'm alone in our bed, so I've had lots of time over the past few nights to reflect on the job I'm doing as a mother, and to feel that I'm coming up short. It hasn't reached a crisis level, or anything, Grasshopper is clean, well-fed and generally happy. What is scaring me is how little patience I've had for him this week when I feel like I can't get away. He's going to be three soon, so he's a big, bouncing bundle of curiosity that just can't be sated. Usually, I love it. This week, I just want him to For the Love of Pete stop TALKING and go play in his room or the den or somewhere, anywhere that is away from me.
And so I worry that my dream, my goal, of adding another child to our family is unrealistic. That if I can't cope gracefully with ONE child on my own, what in the hell do I think I'm going to do with two? Should I take the failed adoptions that we've suffered through as a sign from the Universe to freaking Give Up Already I'm only supposed to parent one child? Should I accept that the fact that it is so hard to raise this money and go through the process of adopting again because it's not what we're meant to do?
I'm just not sure.
I know that I'm scared. I know that I'm worried that I'll let down my child, my beautiful child, if I try to take on another kid and can't perform any better than this. I know that in many ways, things would be easier if I just gave up now. The money we're saving for the adoption would go a long way towards improving our quality of life if it was spent on other things.
What I don't know is if we can be happy that way. After everything we've been through, after everything we've sacrificed, can we just give up? Will we always regret not trying one last time?
Or worse (so very much worse), will we adopt a child, another beautiful child, and come to regret that? Will I be unable to love him/her as much as I do Grasshopper? Will I let them both down because I'm lazy, or selfish, or whatever it is that's wrong with me that's making this week so hard?
I don't know if other Moms feel this way or if I'm an isolated case, but these doubts have crept insidiously into my head and I don't have then energy to push them out.