By Megan Stonelake
I know it goes so fast, and someday I will miss the patter of small feet careening through my kitchen. One day my house will be too quiet and I will give anything to read one more book or tell one more story. There will come a day when I will ache for tiny arms around my neck and sticky hands cradling my face. I’ll miss adoring eyes and that tiny voice whispering, “Mama.”
I know all of that. Some days I really feel it, and I drink in all the sensations that will slip away in the blink of an eye.
I’m burned out, worn out, and touched out. Today I just want to be left alone.
Today I’m tired. Today I want quiet. Today I’m overwhelmed by demands and requests and questions. Today I don’t want to feel quite so needed. I want to sit in my sunny backyard with a good book and a cup of tea and to not be interrupted. I don’t want to make another peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Today I don’t want to hear “Mama” one more time. I’m burned out, worn out, and touched out. Today I just want to be left alone.
Today I’m weary and overwhelmed. Not because I’ve scheduled too much or because I can’t manage my time. I’m overwhelmed because the very act of being a parent just feels like too much on days like this. I’m tired of talking, I’m tired of the noise, and I’m tired of listening.
What I’ve come to realize is that it’s okay to feel the way I do. I don’t have to relish every moment of every day; I don’t always have to enjoy being a mama. It’s okay that I occasionally daydream about the day I’ll have a peaceful, clean house.