crazymama

The further I get away from the Zoloft the more I see how different I am becoming. This is kind of a scary thing for me. Not only am I having to confront who I was before PPD but I am also having to confront my old demons.

I typically feel like the worst mother in the world most of the time. It is only when confronted with stories like this one

http://abcnews.go.com/Technology/story?id=7980476&page=1 (toddler is strangled by Python that got loose) that I feel halfway convinced that I am not doing such a bad job. How crazy is that? I feel good in comparison to parents who let their pet python kill their kid?

Does anyone else have this laundry list of inadequacies in their head? Sometimes it gets so bad that I wonder if it would be better for the kids to go to daycare. Wouldn’t someone whose job it is to watch children be more patient, nurturing, and kind? That is their job, right?

I constantly wonder if I am too hard on my kids. Do I feed them too much junk? Do they watch too much tv?Am I giving them what they need emotionally? Do I hover too much? The list goes on and on.

Why didn’t anyone tell me beforehand that having kids would mean that my heart would be eternally resting on the shoulders of my two children?  If anything ever happened to them I don’t know what I would do with myself. I don’t think I would ever recover. I want them to grow up with the best of everything. I think almost every parent wants that (with the exception of people who let their python eat their kids). It is so polarizing that we as parents can take this desire to extremes. On one side you have total neglect and on the other you have helicopter parenting. How do I find the balance?

All I want is to do right by my kids. I just wish I knew what that meant. Why isn’t there some definitive instruction manual that lists a flowchart on how to raise your kids in the healthiest way possible?

In addition to trying to find the best way to parent my unique children, I am also trying to negate the script that is written from my own parents’ inadequacies in parenting… as we all do.  They did the best they could with what they had, which is what I am doing now. And yet, here I am at 32 years old still suffering from some of their wounds and desperately trying not to repeat the process with my own kids. Will W or A be writing a blog 32 years from now contemplating MY inadequacies as a parent? And if so, how terrible would that feel? Knowing that even my best wasn’t good enough?

Man, parenting is a mind fuck.