on my island

Parenting has a way of making me feel like I am on an island.  Alone.  And within a reasonable amount of distance is the mainland, where I can see all of the other parents laughing and celebrating their awesomeness at this role.

At each stage of being a mom, I have experienced this phenomena.  I remember when I had four kids, five and under.  I would be surrounded by people, but felt totally alone.  As they talked about a date night with their husband, I was trying to remember if I had brushed my teeth yet that day.  My brain was mush, and at every turn I was reminded--sometimes kindly--by others, that I was making one major mistake after another.  "Sleeping in your bed?  Are you crazy?  We NEVER allowed that!"  "They need to get rid of the pacifier by 6 months or it will ruin their teeth!"  Blah, blah, blady-blady-blah.

But good news!  I survived those years.  (But by the grace of God.)  It was like my birthday/Christmas/and winning the lottery combined when I no longer had to purchase diapers.

With smirk on my face and shoulders held high, I was ready to move onto the easy years of parenting.

Yeah, don't ask me how that's going.

It isn't as though I am 'fighting to survive' anymore.  I don't feel like I'm outnumbered by grubby cheeked, stinky-butted children.  Well....we do still have some rather smelly occupants in this house.  But, like their cherub-like cheeks many of the exhausting tasks that filled early motherhood have vanished.

Now here I am in the 'next' stage of being a mom, and so many days I feel like I am doing absolutely everything wrong, again.  Many nights when my tired head hits the pillow I feel like the only thing that I did right was love them.

Love them, even though I lost my temper and let their selfishness get under my skin as though it was a personal attack on me.  Love them, even though I couldn't bite my tongue from mumbling complaints about being under-appreciated while cleaning up a dinner that no one liked.  Love them, even though I holler down the stairs in response to their tantrum at being sent to their room.

So here I am on my island.  Some days it's the Island of Self-Pity, I'll admit.  But the good news about my children growing up, is so am I.  I am perhaps a tad wiser than I once was...I hope.  And I realize that even though I feel isolated in this role, not far from me is another mom, on her island, feeling the same.  She probably drinks more margaritas than I do, and therefore doesn't really care that she's messing everything up.

To all of you parents who are gracefully, or not so, fumbling your way through parenthood along with me, remember that you are not alone.  In fact, you are right where your parents hoped you would be.  Struggling just as much as they did with you.

And you know....an island isn't such a bad place to be.  There are a lot of crazies on the mainland.