I shoo away his hand with the train in it. “Teddy, mama needs to make dinner! I can’t play with you!” I am flying around the kitchen, throwing things around the kitchen in a flurry, taking my anxiety and frustration out on dishes and forks and anything else in my way. 💨 I was on tough work calls right up until 4:59pm. I then left the upstairs work chaos and entered straight into downstairs family chaos. No transition time. No commute blasting favorite music. No deep breath in between. Just sprinting from one loud fire drill to the next. 📢 All of the noise is so loud that I can feel my blood pressure rising. Emails left unanswered. Did I show up as my best self today? When’s the last time the kids had pizza? Can we have it again? 🤔 They’re already saying they’re hungry – can they be held off another 30 minutes while we wait for delivery? Oh shoot it’s Friday and everyone is ordering pizza tonight – make that 45 minutes.
All of that was racing through my mind at the same time when Teddy held up his toy train, asking if I would play with him. 🚂 An innocent question from a little boy who hadn’t seen his mother all day. And on the other end: a stressed working mother who feels like she’s not doing anything well.
So much pressure to be present. To do it all. To be Mary Poppins. To be Corporate Fierce. To have unending amounts of patience. I know the days of being asked to play with them are limited. I will do my best to accept the playdate offer as much as I can. But it won’t be every time. And I will try and grant myself permission to be imperfect and human. It doesn’t mean I love my kids any less. It just means like so many of you, I am simply trying my best. ❤️