When Good Mothers Go Bad (A Whine)

There are times when I just feel like a Bad Mom. Not a Bad Mother in the sense of Her Bad Mother, but a Bad Mom--one who is too selfish, too impatient, too fed up with all the Stuff of motherhood.

Sometimes it feels like too much. I have to get up shortly after five in the morning if I'm going to get ready, pack up the kids in the car, and get out the door to daycare and work--and that's WITH my parents' help. I don't know what I'll do when they leave and I have to get two squirmy boys ready on top of it all. Then there's work, with the occasional meeting afterwards, doctor visits, therapist visits, shopping to be done and errands to run, and then get the kids and take them home. They're often cranky and clingy in the afternoon, so even with my parents' help, and with my gourmet chef of a father whipping up something luscious for dinner, there isn't a lot of Space or Time for myself. Then dinner, vitamins, teeth, maybe a bath, pjs, and bed.

By which time I just want to collapse and vegetate until bedtime. God help me if there's grading to do.

This afternoon I wanted to exercise. I haven't done so since Saturday, and I've been very erratic with it lately. The occasional few miles every several days is not sufficient--I can feel and see the flab creeping back. I'm at an age where my body takes work.

And the kids did NOT want to help me out with my goal. The Widget stood before me and wailed, huge tears rolling down his cheeks. Efforts to distract him were momentary in effect. DramaBoy bounced in and out, tempting fate, until at last he managed to get himself tangled with my legs, almost resulting in catastrophe. At which point I lost my strained temper, snatched up my hoodie, and marched out of the room, snarling How am I supposed to do ANY of this with THEM around?!

Now I feel equal parts guilty and frustrated. I don't want to revert to my flabby, saggy self of the last several years. Exercise helps with my depression, and looking good makes me feel self-confident and proud of my accomplishment. Because that's what it is: I am no longer the naturally skinny TeacherGirl of nearly two decades ago (who could eat endlessly and lose weight and who hardly ever exercised, the bitch); but the sleep-deprived, under-hydrated, over-snacking, insufficiently-exercising TeacherMommy who has to work for anything near a svelte figure.

Do I have to choose? Do I have to EITHER be a Good Mother or a Beautiful Woman? Do I have to do the unthinkable and wake up at 4 A.M. in order to get a workout in before my morning ablutions?

Do I have to stop whining?

Probably.

But it's as hard to get up the motivation to do that as it is to start working out.

Time to go be a Mother. For Good or Bad. Or at least Better.